Chapter XXIV: In the Old Home 374 (2)

"What have you to say to that?" Colonel Dalrymple asked, addressing the soldiers, who made no reply.

"Lieutenant, take them to the guardhouse, and consider yourself under arrest till I can look into this matter. Don't you know better than to draw your sword against a citizen in this way?"

The lieutenant made no reply, but looked savagely at Robert, as if to say, "I'll have it out with you sometime," sheathed his sword and turned away, following the crestfallen soldiers to the guardhouse.

Colonel Dalrymple bowed courteously, as if to apologize for the insult to the lady. Robert came to the conclusion that he was a gentleman.

The negroes were laughing and chuckling and telling the rapidly gathering crowd what had happened. Robert, having no desire to be made conspicuous, walked up Queen Street. He tarried a moment to look at the iron-grated windows and double-bolted doors of the jail, then turned down Hanover Street and made his way to the Green Dragon.

III.

THE SONS OF LIBERTY.

"Is it far to Doctor Warren's house?" Robert asked of the landlord after supper.

"Oh no, only a few steps around the corner on Hanover Street. So you are going to call on him, just as your father always does. You will find him a nice gentleman. He is kind to the poor, charging little or nothing when they are sick and need doctoring. He isn't quite thirty years old, but there isn't a doctor in town that has a larger practice. He is a true patriot. I heard a man say the other day that if Joe Warren would only let politics alone he would soon be riding in his own coach. The rich Tories don't like him much. They say it was he who gave Governor Bernard such a scorching in Ben Edes's newspaper awhile ago. He is eloquent when he gets fired up. You ought to hear him in town meeting; you won't find him stuck up one mite; you can talk with him just as you do with me."

With the cheese under his arm Robert walked along Hanover Street to Doctor Warren's house[17]. It was a wooden building standing end to the road. Entering a small yard, he rattled the knocker on the door. The doctor opened it.

[Footnote 17: The home of Doctor Warren stood upon the spot now occupied by the American House. It was a plain structure and was surrounded a garden. Mrs. Warren--Elizabeth Hooton before marriage--was the daughter of Richard Hooton, a merchant possessing large wealth. She was beautiful in person and character. She died May, 1773. The Boston _Gazette_ contained an appreciative tribute to her worth.

"Good sense and modesty with virtue crowned;
A sober mind when fortune smiled or frowned.
So keen a feeling for a friend distressed,
She could not bear to see a man oppressed."]

"Good-evening; will you walk in?" he said. It was a pleasant, cheery voice, one to make a sick person feel well.

"Please step into the office."

Robert entered a room smelling of rhubarb, jalap, ipecac, and other medicines in bottles and packages on the shelves.

Sincere and hearty were the thanks of Doctor Warren for the present.

"I want Mrs. Warren to make your acquaintance," he said.

A beautiful woman entered and gave Robert a cordial greeting.

"It is very kind of you to bring us such a gift. It is not the first time your father has made us happy," she said. "We must find some way, husband, to let Mr. Walden know we appreciate his kindness."

"That is so, wife."

"We live so far away," said Robert, "we do not know what is going on. Father wishes me especially to learn the latest news from London in regard to the proposed tax on tea, and what the Colonies are going to do about it."

"That is a very important matter," the doctor replied, "and we are to have a meeting of the Sons of Liberty this evening to consider what shall be done in case the bill now before Parliament becomes a law, as I have no doubt it will. I shall be pleased to have you go with me. Of course our meetings are somewhat secret. We do not care to have any mousing Tory know just what we intend to do. You will have a hearty welcome from the boys. It is only a few steps from here, at the Green Dragon."

"That is where I am stopping," Robert replied.

"You can say to your father," the doctor continued, "that the redcoats are becoming very insolent, and we fear there will be trouble."

Robert said nothing about his experience at the town pump.

"Tommy Hutchinson," the doctor went on, "is acting governor. He is not the hyena Bernard was. Hutchinson was born here. He is a gentleman, but loves office. I would not do him any injustice, but being in office he naturally sides with the ministry. He does not see which way the people are going. King George believes that he himself is chosen of God to rule us, and Lord North is ready to back him up. The people around the king are sycophants who are looking after their own personal advantage. The ministers know very little about affairs in the Colonies. They are misled by Bernard and others. They are determined to raise revenue from the Colonies, but will be disappointed. But we will go round to the Green Dragon."

They reached the tavern. Doctor Warren nodded to the landlord, and led the way up the stairs along the hall and gave four raps on a door. One of the panels swung open. A man on the other side said something which Robert could not understand, neither could he make out what the doctor said in reply. The panel closed, the door opened, and they passed into a large room dimly lighted by two tallow candles. A dozen or more young men were seated in chairs around a table smoking their pipes. At one end of the table was a large punch-bowl, a basket filled with lemons, a bottle of rum, a plate of crackers, and half a cheese. One young man was slicing lemons and making rum punch. All clapped their hands when they saw Doctor Warren.

"I have brought a young friend; he is from New Hampshire and as true as steel," said the doctor.

"Boys," said Amos Lincoln, "this is the gentleman I was telling you about; let's give him three cheers."

The room rang. Robert did not know what to make of it; neither did Doctor Warren till Amos Lincoln told how he had seen Mr. Walden at the town pump, knocking down one lobster, throwing another into the watering-trough, and calmly confronting the prig of a lieutenant. When Amos finished, all came and shook hands with Robert.

Mr. John Rowe called the meeting to order.

"Since our last meeting," he said, "a ship has arrived bringing the news that the king and ministers are determined to levy an export duty of three pence per pound on tea: that is, all tea exported from England will be taxed to that extent. Of course, we could pay it if we chose, but we shall not so choose."

The company clapped their hands.

"We have sent round papers for the merchants to sign an agreement that they will not sell any tea imported from England. All have signed it except Hutchinson's two sons, Governor Bernard's son-in-law, Theophilus Lillie, and two others. The agreement does not prevent the merchants from selling tea imported from Holland. The Tories, of course, will patronize the merchants who have not signed the agreement, and the question for us to consider is how we shall keep out the tea to be imported by the East India Company."

"We must make it hot for 'em," said Mr. Mackintosh.

"The tea, do you mean?" shouted several.

There was a ripple of laughter.

"I don't see but that we shall have to quit drinking tea," said Doctor Warren. "We drink altogether too much. It has become a dissipation. We drink it morning, noon, and night. Some of the old ladies of my acquaintance keep the teapot on the coals pretty much all the time. Our wives meet in the afternoon to sip tea and talk gossip. The girls getting ready to be married invite their mates to quiltings and serve them with Old Hyson. We have garden tea-parties on bright afternoons in summer and evening parties in winter. So much tea, such frequent use of an infusion of the herb, upsets our nerves, impairs healthful digestion, and brings on sleeplessness. I have several patients--old ladies, and those in middle life--whose nerves are so unstrung that I am obliged to dose them with opium occasionally, to enable them to sleep."

"Do you think we can induce the ladies to quit drinking it?" Mr. Molineux asked.

"I am quite sure Mrs. Warren will cheerfully give it up, as will Mrs. Molineux if her husband should set the example," Doctor Warren replied.

Mr. Molineux said he was ready to banish the teapot from his table.

"I believe," continued the doctor, "that the women of America will be ready to give up the gratification of their appetites to maintain a great principle. They will sacrifice all personal considerations to secure the rights of the Colonies. Parliament proposes to tax this country without our having a voice in the matter. It is a seductive and insidious proposition--this export duty. I suppose they think we are simpletons, and will be caught in the trap they are setting. They think we are so fond of tea we shall continue to purchase it, but the time has come when we must let them know there is nothing so precious to us as our rights and liberties; that we can be resolute in little as well as in great things. I dare say that some of you, like myself, have invitations to Mrs. Newville's garden party to-morrow afternoon. I expect to attend, but it will be the last tea-party for me, if the bill before Parliament becomes a law. Mrs. Newville is an estimable lady, a hospitable hostess; having accepted an invitation to be present, it would be discourteous for me to inform her I could not drink a cup of tea from her hand, but I have made up my mind henceforth to stand resolutely for maintaining the principle underlying it all,--a great fundamental, political principle,--our freedom."

The room rang with applause.

"Sometimes, as some of you know, I try my hand at verse-making. I will read a few lines."

FREE AMERICA.

That seat of Science, Athens,
And earth's proud mistress, Rome:
Where now are all their glories?
We scarce can find their tomb.
Then guard your rights, Americans,
Nor stoop to lawless sway;
Oppose, oppose, oppose,
For North America.

We led fair Freedom hither,
And lo, the desert smiled,
A paradise of pleasure
Was opened in the wild.
Your harvest, bold Americans,
No power shall snatch away.
Huzza, huzza, huzza,
For free America.

Some future day shall crown us
The masters of the main;
Our fleets shall speak in thunder
To England, France, and Spain.
And nations over ocean spread
Shall tremble and obey
The sons, the sons, the sons,
Of brave America.

Captain Mackintosh sang it, and the hall rang with cheers.

"It is pitiable," said Mr. Rowe, "that the people of England do not understand us better, but what can we expect when a member of Parliament makes a speech like that delivered by Mr. Stanley just before the last ship sailed. Hear it."

Mr. Rowe, taking a candle in one hand and snuffing it with his thumb and finger, read an extract from the speech: "What will become of that insolent town, Boston, when we deprive the inhabitants of the power of sending their molasses to the coast of Africa? The people of that town must be treated as aliens, and the charters of towns in Massachusetts must be changed so as to give the king the appointment of the councilors, and give the sheriffs the sole power of returning juries."

"The ignoramus," continued Mr. Rowe, "does not know that no molasses is made in these Colonies. He confounds this and the other Colonies with Jamaica. One would suppose Lord North would not be quite so bitter, but he said in a recent speech that America must be made to fear the king; that he should go on with the king's plan until we were prostrate at his feet."

"Not much will we get down on our knees to him," said Peter Bushwick. "Since the war with France, to carry on which the Colonies contributed their full share, the throne isn't feared quite as much as it was. Americans are not in the habit of prostrating themselves."

Captain Mackintosh once more broke into a song.

"Come join hand in hand, Americans all;
By uniting we stand, dividing we fall.
To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain,
For shame is to freedom more dreadful than pain.
In freedom we're born, in freedom we'll live.
Our purses are ready: steady, boys, steady,
Not as slaves but as freemen our money we'll give."

The Sons again clapped their hands and resolved that they would drink no more tea. The formal business of the evening being ended, they broke into groups, helped themselves to crackers and cheese, and lighted their pipes.

A young man about Robert's age came and shook hands with him.

"Did I understand correctly that you are Robert Walden from Rumford?" he asked.

"That is my name, and I am from Rumford."

"Then we are cousins; I am Tom Brandon."

"I was intending to call upon you to-morrow."

"You must go with me to-night. Father and mother never would forgive me if I did not take you along, especially when I tell them how you rubbed it into the king's lobsters."

The bells were ringing for nine o'clock--the hour when everybody in Boston made preparations for going to bed. All the Sons of Liberty came and shook hands with Robert.

"It is the most wholesome lesson the villains have had since they landed at Long Wharf," said Doctor Warren, who hoped to have the pleasure of seeing more of Mr. Walden.

"We must rely upon such as you in the struggle which we are yet to have to maintain our liberties," said Mr. Molineux.

Tom Brandon took Robert with him to his home on Copp's Hill. Robert could see by the light of the moon that it was a large wooden house with a hipped roof, surmounted by a balustrade, fronting the burial ground and overlooking the harbor and a wide reach of surrounding country.

"Why, Robert Walden! where did you come from?" Mr. Brandon exclaimed as Tom ushered him into the sitting-room.

"What! stopping at the Green Dragon! Why didn't you come right here, you naughty boy?"

He tinkled a bell and a negro entered the room.

"Mark Antony, go up to the Green Dragon and get this gentleman's trunk. Tell the landlord I sent you. Hold on a moment: it is after nine o'clock, and the watchman may overhaul you and want to know what you are doing. You must have an order."

Mr. Brandon stepped to a writing-desk and wrote an order, receiving which Mark Antony bowed and took his departure.

Mr. Brandon was in the prime of life, hale, hearty, vigorous, a former ship captain, who had been to London many times, also through the Straits of Gibraltar, to Madeira, Jamaica, and round Cape of Good Hope to China. He had seen enough of ocean life and had become a builder of ships. He was accustomed to give orders, manage men, and was quick to act. He had accumulated wealth, and was living in a spacious mansion on the summit of the hill. On calm summer evenings he smoked his pipe upon the platform on the roof of his house, looking through a telescope at vessels making the harbor, reading the signals flying at the masthead, and saying to himself and friends that the approaching vessel was from London or the West Indias.

Robert admired the homelike residence, the paneled wainscoting, the fluted pilasters, elaborately carved mantel, glazed tiles, mahogany centre-table, armchairs, the beautifully carved writing-desk, the pictures on the walls of ships under full sail weathering rocky headlands.

Mrs. Brandon and her daughter Berinthia entered the room. Mrs. Brandon was very fair for a woman in middle life. Berinthia had light blue eyes, cherry ripe lips, and rosy cheeks.

"I have heard father speak of you often, and he is always holding up cousin Rachel as a model for me," said Berinthia, shaking hands with him.

Tom told of what had happened at the town pump.

"The soldiers are a vile set," said Mrs. Brandon.

"They are becoming very insolent, and I fear we shall have trouble with them," said Mr. Brandon.

Mark Antony came with the trunk, and Tom lighted a candle to show Robert to his chamber. Berinthia walked with him to the foot of the stairs.

"Good-night, cousin," she said; "I want to thank you in behalf of all the girls in Boston for throwing that villain into the watering-trough."

IV.

AN EVENING WITH SAM ADAMS.

"How beautiful!" Robert exclaimed, as he beheld the harbor, the town, and the surrounding country from the top of the house the following morning. Berinthia pointed out the localities. At their feet was Copp's Hill burial ground with its rows of headstones and grass-grown mounds. Across the river, northward, was Charlestown village nestling at the foot of Bunker Hill. Ferryboats were crossing the stream. Farther away beyond fields, pastures, and marsh lands were the rocky bluffs of Malden, the wood-crowned heights russet and crimson with the first tinges of autumn. Eastward was the harbor with its wave-washed islands, and the blue ocean sparkling in the sunlight. White sails were fading and vanishing on the far distant horizon. Ships were riding at anchor between the town and castle. Southward were dwellings, stores, shops, and the spires of meetinghouses. Beyond the town were the Roxbury, Dorchester, and Milton hills--fields, pastures, orchards, and farmhouses. Westward rose Beacon Hill, its sunny slopes dotted with houses and gardens; farther away, across Charles River, he could see the steeple of Cambridge meetinghouse and the roof of the college.

"This is Christ Church," said Berinthia, pointing to the nearest steeple. "That beyond is the Old North Meetinghouse where Cotton Mather preached.[18] Of course you have heard of him."

[Footnote 18: Historical writers have made a mistake in speaking of Christ Church as the Old North Meetinghouse. They were distinct edifices--Christ Church standing in Salem Street, the Old North fronting North Square. Christ Church is the historic edifice from whose steeple Robert Newman hung the lantern to give notice of the movement of the king's troops, April, 1775. The Old North was torn down during the siege of Boston.]

Robert replied that the name seemed familiar.

"He was one of the ministers first settled," said Berinthia, "and wrote a curious book, the 'Magnalia.' When he was a boy he picked up Latin so quickly that when twelve years old he was able to enter college, graduating four years later. That stately mansion near the meetinghouse was the home of Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson. A mob smashed the windows in connection with the attempt to enforce the Stamp Act; and it was that which induced the king to send the two regiments of soldiers to Boston. The house adjoining is the home of Lady Agnes Frankland."

She told the romantic story of Lady Frankland's life; how Sir Henry, when a young man, came from England to be the king's collector of customs. One day he went to Marblehead, and while at the tavern saw a girl scrubbing the floor. She was barefooted, but had a beautiful face. He thought that so pretty a girl ought not to go barefooted, and gave her money to buy a pair of shoes. A few weeks passed, and again he saw her barefooted, still scrubbing the floor. She had purchased the shoes, but was keeping them for Sunday. Sir Henry was so pleased with her that he offered to give her an education. A good minister took her into his family and she learned very rapidly. She in return gave him her love, and after leaving school went to live with him. He not only owned the house in town, but a great estate in the country. He kept horses and hounds, and had good wines. After a while he took Agnes to England with him, and from thence to Portugal. He was in Lisbon in 1755, at the time of the great earthquake, and was riding in his carriage when suddenly the earth began to heave and tremble, and houses, churches, all came tumbling down, burying thirty thousand people. Sir Henry's horses and himself and carriage were beneath the bricks and mortar. Agnes was not with him at the moment, but showed her love by running as fast as she could and digging away the bricks with her own hands, finding him badly mangled but alive. He thought he was going to die, and made a vow that if his life was spared Agnes should be his lawfully wedded wife. His wounds healed and he kept his word, making her Lady Frankland. They came once more to Boston, bought the house next to Chief Justice Hutchinson, and lived very happily.

"We will go down to father's shipyard," said Tom, "and you can see the carpenters at work building a ship."

They descended the hill and entered the yard. Robert hardly knew what to think as he listened to the clattering of axes and mallets. Some of the workmen were hewing timber and putting up the ribs of the vessel; others were bolting planks to the ribs. The size of the ship amazed him; it was larger than his father's barn. In a few weeks the hull would be finished, the masts put in, the rigging rove, and then the ship would be launched.

"Father is going to name her for me, and I am to be the figurehead; come to the carver's shop and see me," said Berinthia with sparkling eyes and merry laugh.

They went into a little shop where a good-looking young man, with chisels, gouges, and mallet, was fashioning the bust of a woman. Tom introduced him as Abraham Duncan. Robert noticed a lighting up of Mr. Duncan's eyes as he greeted Berinthia.

"Mr. Duncan is one of us. As for that matter, every man in the yard is a Son of Liberty," Tom said.

"That is me," said Berinthia, pointing to the figurehead. "I am to be perched beneath the bowsprit to look out upon the ocean and see which way the ship ought to go. The waves will wet my hair, and the tears will run down my cheeks when the storms are on. My eyes will behold strange things. I shall see the whales spout and the porpoises play, and poke my nose into foreign parts," she said playfully.

Robert saw that the carver had fashioned the face to look like her. She had been down to the shop several times, that he might study her features. On Saturday evenings after work for the week was over he put on his best coat and called at the Brandon house to look at her as she sat by the fireside with the light from the hearth illumining her face. Although Mr. Duncan usually went to hear Reverend Mr. Checkley preach, he sometimes strayed away to Reverend Doctor Cooper's meetinghouse in Brattle Street, and took a seat where he could see Berinthia's features in repose, as she listened to the sermon. Although the minister was very eloquent, Mr. Duncan was more interested in looking at her than hearing what was said in the pulpit. Robert noticed that she seemed to enjoy talking with the carver, and when he went to the other side of the building to get a portfolio of drawings to show her how the cabin was to be ornamented her eyes followed him.

"Father says Mr. Duncan is a very talented young man, and one of the best artists in town," she said, as they walked back to the house.

After dinner, Robert went to the Green Dragon, obtained a chaise, harnessed Jenny, took in Berinthia, and crossed the ferry to Charlestown, for a ride in the country. They drove along a wide street at the foot of Bunker Hill, and came to a narrow neck of land between Charles River on the south and Mystic River on the north. The tide was flowing in and covering the marsh lands. They gained the summit of Winter Hill, gazed upon the beautiful landscape, then turned southward toward Cambridge. Reaching the college, they entered the library and the room containing the philosophical instruments. Robert rubbed his knife on a magnet so he could pick up a needle by touching it with the blade. They had little time to spare, for they were to take supper with Mr. Samuel Adams. Berinthia informed him that Mr. Adams was not rich, that he was very kind-hearted, and had lost his property through kindness to a friend.

"He lives very plainly," she said as they rode homeward. "We shall find simple fare, but he will give you a hearty shake of the hand. People have faith in him because he is true to his convictions."

It was supper time when they reached Mr. Adams's house.

"I am pleased to see you, and am glad to have an opportunity for a little talk," said Mr. Adams, welcoming them.

"We have very simple fare, only mush and milk, pandowdy,[19] and some Rumford cheese which is very delicious," said Mrs. Adams as she invited them to the supper table. They stood by their chairs while Mr. Adams asked a blessing, then took their seats.

[Footnote 19: Pandowdy was a compote of apples, with several layers of pastry made from rye meal, baked in a deep earthen dish and eaten with milk.]

"We have abolished tea from our table," he said. "I see no better way of thwarting the designs of the king and the ministry to overthrow the liberties of the Colonies than for the people to quit using it."

"Do you think the people will deny themselves for a principle?" Robert asked.

"Yes; I have unbounded faith in the virtue of the American people. I do not know that we naturally are more virtuous than the people of other lands, but the course pursued by England ever since Cromwell's time has been one of oppression. Now tyranny, when exercised towards a free and intelligent people, is a process of education. Away back when Cromwell was administering the affairs of the nation a law was passed, the design of which was to build up the commerce of England. At that time Spain and Holland were great maritime countries. The ships of Spain were bringing gold from Cuba, Mexico, and South America to that country. The ships of Holland were bringing silks and tea from India and China. Those countries were doing pretty much all the carrying on the ocean. Cromwell, one of the greatest and most far-sighted of all England's rulers, determined that England should have her share of the trade. The law which was passed provided that no goods should be imported into that country or exported from it except in English vessels, and the master of every ship and three fourths of the crew must be Englishmen, under penalty of forfeiture of the ship and cargo. The act was passed in 1651. In a very short time the commerce of England was twice what it had been. The law was not designed to work any injury to the Colonies, but for their benefit. The great abundance of timber in America, so much that farmers were slashing down hundreds of acres and burning it, enabled the colonists to build ships very cheaply, and so there was a swinging of axes in all our seaport towns. When Charles II. came to the throne the royalists determined there should be nothing left to remind the people that a Commonwealth had ever existed. All the laws enacted during the period were repealed. Their hatred was so great they could not let Cromwell's bones rest in peace, but dug them up, dragged them through the streets of London, and set his skull on Temple Bar. Well, that did not hurt Cromwell, but it did hurt Charles II. and monarchy. I do not imagine anybody in coming years will erect a statue to the memory of that voluptuous king or hold him in reverence, but the time will come when Oliver Cromwell will be held in grateful remembrance."

Mr. Adams passed his bowl for more pandowdy, and then went on with the conversation.

"The meanness of human nature," he said, "is seen in the action of Parliament immediately after Charles II. came to the throne in repealing every law enacted during the period of the Commonwealth. Having wiped out every statute, what do you suppose Parliament did?"

Robert replied that he had not the remotest idea.

"Well, they reënacted them--put them right back on the statute book. They were good laws, but the Cromwellians had enacted them and they must be expunged; having blotted them out, they must be put back again because they were good laws."

Mr. Adams leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

"Now we come to the iniquity of Parliament," he continued. "Under the Commonwealth the Colonies were kindly treated. Cromwell, at one time, together with John Hampden, thought of emigrating to America, but he did not, and by staying in England rendered inestimable service to his fellow-men. The iniquity was this: Parliament enacted a law which made each of these Colonies a distinct country, so far as commerce was concerned. Greed and selfishness prompted the passage of this act, which aimed to make England the distributor of all commerce, not only between the Colonies and other countries, but between this country and England, and, to cap the climax, England was to control the trade between the Colonies; that is, Massachusetts could not trade with New Hampshire, or New York with Connecticut, except by paying tribute to England. The people were no longer Englishmen, with the privileges of Englishmen, but outsiders, foreigners, so far as trade was concerned. If a Dutchman of Amsterdam wanted to find a market here in Boston he could not send his ship across the Atlantic, but only to England, that the goods might be taken across the ocean in an English ship. The merchants here in Boston who had anything to sell in Holland, France, Spain, or anywhere else, could not send it to those countries, but must ship it to England. The fishermen of Gloucester and Marblehead could not ship the codfish they had caught to Spain or Cuba. The people in Catholic countries cannot eat meat on Friday, but may eat fish. Spain and Cuba were good customers, but the fishermen must sell their fish to merchants in London or Bristol, instead of trading directly with the people of those countries. You see, Mr. Walden, that it was a cunningly devised plan to enrich England at our expense."

"It was unrighteous and wicked," Robert exclaimed.

"I do not wonder that it seems so to you, as it must to every one who believes in justice and fair dealing," Mr. Adams continued; "but human nature is apt to be selfish. In 1696 Parliament passed an act establishing the Lords of Trade, giving seven men, selected by the king, authority to control and regulate commerce.[20] The governors of the Colonies were to carry out the provisions of the act, which forbade all traffic between Ireland and the Colonies, and which repealed all the laws enacted by the colonial legislatures relating to trade and manufactures."

[Footnote 20: "The causes which brought about the American Revolution will be found in the acts of the Board of Trade."--JOHN ADAMS.]

"Did not the people protest against such a law?" Robert asked.

"Yes, the Great and General Court sent a protest to London, but they might as well have whistled to the wind."

Mr. Adams turned partly round in his chair and took a paper from his desk.

"This is a copy," he continued, "of the protest. It represents that the people were already much cramped in their liberties and would be fools to consent to have their freedom further abridged. They were not bound to obey those laws, because they had no voice in making them. They stood on their natural rights. It would take many hours to tell you, Mr. Walden, the full story of oppression on the part of Parliament towards the Colonies, or to picture the greed of the merchants and manufacturers of England, who could not then, and who cannot now, bear to think of a spinning-wheel whirling or a shuttle flying anywhere outside of England, or of anybody selling anything unless for the benefit of the men who keep shop in the vicinity of Threadneedle Street or Amen Corner.[21] The course of England in selfishness and greed is like the prayer of the man who said,--

"'O Lord, bless my wife and me,
Son John and his she,
We four,
No more.'"

[Footnote 21: Threadneedle Street and Amen Corner--noted localities in London.]

Robert, Berinthia, and Mrs. Adams laughed heartily. Mr. Adams finished his mush and milk, and while Mrs. Adams was serving the pandowdy he went on:--

"Memory goes back to my boyhood. When I was ten years old or thereabouts, there were no less than sixteen hat makers and possibly more in this one town. I used to pass several of the shops on my way to school. Beavers were plenty on all the streams in New Hampshire and western Massachusetts, and the hatters were doing a thriving business, sending their hats to the West Indies and Holland. One of the merchants sent some to England. The makers of felt hats over there could not tolerate such a transaction. There was a buzzing around the Lords of Trade; a complaint that the felters were being impoverished by the hatters of America. Parliament thereupon passed a law to suppress the manufacture of hats. Here is the law."

Mr. Adams read from the paper:--

"No hats or felts, dyed or undyed, finished or unfinished,
shall be put on board any vessel in any place within any
British plantations, nor be laden upon any horse or other
carriage to the intent to be exported from thence to any
other plantation, or to any other place, upon forfeiture
thereof, and the offender shall likewise pay five hundred
pounds for every such offense. Every person knowing thereof,
and willingly aiding therein, shall forfeit forty pounds."

"That is diabolical," said Robert, his blood beginning to boil.

Mr. Adams saw the flush upon his cheek and smiled.

"I see that it stirs you up, as it does every lover of liberty. But I have not given you the full text of the iniquitous act: the law forbade any one from making a hat who had not served as an apprentice seven years, nor could a man employ more than two apprentices. Under that law no hatter up in Portsmouth could paddle across the Piscataqua and sell a hat to his neighbor in Kittery because the hat was made in New Hampshire. The hatter who had a shop in Providence could not carry a hat to his neighbor just over the line in Swansey, one town being in Rhode Island and the other in Massachusetts. The law, you see, was designed to crush out the manufacture of hats. The law applied to almost everything."

"I had no idea that such laws had been passed; they are abominable!" Robert replied with a vigor that brought a smile to Mr. Adams's face, who took a bit of cheese and smacked his lips.

"Every time I taste it I think of you and your father, mother, and sister who made it," he said.

"I hope to see them sometime," said Mrs. Adams.

"I am not quite through with the iniquity," continued Mr. Adams. "About forty years ago--it was in 1737, I think--Parliament passed what is called the Sugar Act, which imposed a duty on sugar and molasses, if imported from any of the West India Islands other than those owned by Great Britain. Cuba, as you know, is a dependency of Spain and St. Domingo of France. The sugar plantations of Jamaica and Guinea are owned by Englishmen, and the law was passed to compel the Colonies to trade solely with the Jamaica planters. The Great and General Court protested that the act was a violation of the rights of the Colonies, but no notice was taken of the protest--it was thrown into the basket for waste paper. Since the time of Charles II. not less than twenty-nine acts have been passed, which, in one way or another, restrict trade and invade the rights of the Colonies. I suppose, Mr. Walden, you leach the ashes, which you scrape up from your fireplace?"

"Oh yes," Robert replied; "not only what we take from the hearth in the kitchen, but when we have a burning of a ten-acre lot, as we had a few weeks ago, we scoop up several cart-loads of ashes which we leach, and boil the lye to potash."[22]

[Footnote 22: The leaching of ashes and manufacture of potash was a large industry during the Colonial period. In some sections of the country the article was known as "black salts." There was one or more potashery in every town.]

"And what do you do with the potash?"

"We shall probably bring it to Boston and sell it to Mr. Hancock or some other merchant."

"Oh no, you can't do that legally, because you live in New Hampshire, and the law prohibits trade of that sort between the Colonies. You can take the potash to Portsmouth, and if there is an English vessel in the Piscataqua you can send it to England and have it shipped back to Boston; but it must be in an English ship, not in one owned by my good friend John Langdon, merchant in Portsmouth, who is ready to stand resolutely against all oppression; or you may pay the Custom House officer what it will cost to transport it to England and back to Boston, and he will give you permission to ship it direct to Boston. That is the law; but it has been inoperative for several reasons--one, because it could not be enforced, and another, because Great Britain has been compelled to rely upon the Colonies to aid in driving the French from Canada. That has been accomplished, and now King George, who is not remarkably intelligent, but pig-headed, and his short-sighted ministers are determined to carry out measures, not only to obtain revenue from the Colonies, but to repress manufactures here for the benefit of the manufactures of England. Thanks to our spinning-school, a stimulus has been given to our home manufactures which will enable us to spin and weave a goodly amount of plain cloth. Perhaps, Mr. Walden, you may have noticed the spinning-school building in Long Acre,[23] near the Common--a large brick building with the figure of a woman holding a distaff."

[Footnote 23: Long Acre extended from School Street to the Common, and was sometimes called Common Street, now a section of Tremont Street.]

"Yes, I saw it yesterday, and wondered what it might mean."

"Well, quite a number of years ago, the Great and General Court passed a law for the encouragement of spinning, levying a tax on carriages and other luxuries for the establishment of the school. Its opening was celebrated on the Common. About one hundred women and girls came with their spinning-wheels and set them to humming beneath the trees. The court gave prizes for the best work. At present we buy our broadcloths and velvets in England, but the time will come when we shall make them this side of the Atlantic."

"The spinning-wheel and loom are going in our house from morning till night," Robert said.

"I am glad to hear it; the road to independence of the mother country lies in that direction. Industry will bring it about by and by, but I apprehend that other repressive and tyrannical measures will be passed. These arbitrary acts of Parliament have had one lamentable result, they have made the people of the Colonies a community of smugglers. I am pained to say that we are losing all correct sense of moral obligation in matters pertaining to the government. No one thinks it disreputable to smuggle goods into the country because everybody feels that the laws are unjust. The ministry undertook to enforce the laws against smuggling not long since, by issuing Writs of Assistance, as they were called. That attempt was more unjust than any of the laws that had been passed regulating trade. It gave the Custom House officers authority to enter not only stores, but private dwellings, break open chests, boxes, and closets in search of smuggled goods. Now if there is anything that Englishmen prize, it is the liberty secured by Magna Charta. Every man's house is his castle. Writs of Assistance violated the fundamental principle of English liberty. Our great lawyer, Mr. James Otis, has immortalized his name by his masterly oration in opposition to the measure. The writs have not prevented smuggling; on the contrary, it is regarded as almost a virtue and a duty to circumvent a government which enacts unrighteous laws. For instance, a little more than a year ago, John Hancock's sloop, Liberty, arrived from Madeira with a cargo of wine. The Custom House officer went on board. He was followed by half a dozen seaman belonging to one of Hancock's other vessels, who locked the officer into the cabin, unloaded the vessel, all except a few pipes of wine, and carted the cargo away. The next morning the captain of the vessel made oath that half a dozen casks was all the wine he had to deliver for payment of duty. The collector, Mr. Harrison, and the comptroller, Mr. Hallowell, resolved to seize the Liberty. Admiral Montague sent a company of marines, who took possession of the sloop and anchored her under the guns of the Romney. That incensed the people, who smashed in the windows of the office, seized the collector's boat, carried it to the Common, and burned it. The revenue officers, fearing for their safety, fled to the Castle, where they remained till the troops arrived last October. Tyranny begets resistance on the part of the people."

"What is to be the outcome of all this?" Robert asked.

"I do not know," Mr. Adams replied thoughtfully, "just what will come of it, but of one thing I am sure, the people of America never will be slaves. At present, we have an insolent soldiery walking our streets, challenging and provoking the people. We are treated as if under military law. The quiet of the Sabbath is broken by the rattling of drums and the shrill notes of the fife. The soldiers become intoxicated, and are ready to pick a quarrel with the town's-people. No lady can appear on the street unaccompanied by a gentleman without danger of being insulted. I expect that collisions will occur between the troops and people, and that sooner or later blood will be shed. You can say to your father that I have just received a letter from Colonel George Washington of Virginia, who took command of the troops after the wounding of General Braddock in the battle near Fort Du Quesne. He agrees with me that there must be united action on the part of the Colonies, and that we shall be warranted in using arms if we cannot secure our liberties in any other way. Of course, we shall not bring every one to stand up for the rights and liberties of the Colonies. Those who in any way are connected with the crown--the Custom House officials and their friends who are in receipt of salaries and perquisites--will support whatever measures the ministry may propose. Then there are many gentlemen who naturally will maintain their allegiance to the king, who think that an existing government, no matter how unjust and tyrannical it may be, stands for law and order, and that to resist it in any way leads to revolution. Some of my old-time friends are siding with the ministry. They think we ought not to complain of so small a matter as paying a tax of three pence per pound on tea. They lose sight of the great principle that taxation in any form without representation in Parliament is tyranny. We might willingly consent to pay it had we a voice in making it, but we will not consent to be taxed without such a voice. I am pleased, Mr. Walden, to have had this little conversation with you. I rely upon the young men of the country to stand resolutely for what is just and right, and I am equally sure," he said, turning to Berinthia, "that the young women will give all their influence to sustain the young men. Mrs. Adams is just as ready as I am to quit drinking tea, because by so doing she manifests her fealty to a great principle; if the mothers are ready to make sacrifices, I am sure the daughters will be equally ready."

The conversation of Mr. Adams was very attractive, he was so earnest, sincere, and truthful. Gladly would Robert have listened through the evening, but he reflected that such a man must have many letters to write, and he must not trespass upon his time.

"I am glad to have made your acquaintance, Mr. Walden; you must always come and see me when you are in town. I am sure you will do what you can to stir up the young men of Rumford to resist the aggressions of the king and his ministers. That there are lively times before us I do not doubt, but we shall maintain our liberties, cost what it may," he said, accompanying them to the door and bidding them good-by.

"I am invited to a garden tea-party to-morrow afternoon," said Berinthia, as they walked home. "Isn't it curious that while Mr. Adams wants us girls to leave off drinking tea for the sake of a great principle, I want you for my escort to the tea-party. It will be a grand affair and you will have a chance to see the best people of the town."

"I am at your service, and will do the best I can," Robert replied.

V.

A GARDEN TEA-PARTY.

The king's commissioner of imposts, Theodore Newville, had authority to collect for the crown three shillings per ton on all vessels of not more than two hundred tons burden, and four shillings per ton on vessels of larger dimensions. He also had authority to reserve the tallest, straightest, and largest pine-trees growing in the forests for the use of the royal navy. When the king's arrow was blazed upon a tree,[24] no man, not even the owner of the soil, could fell it to the ground. Every year, and at times as often as every six months, a ship arrived upon the New England coast for masts and spars.

[Footnote 24: The arrow was the sign of royal authority and ownership.]

Mr. Newville was provided with an office in the Custom House, but his home was on the sunny slope of Beacon Hill, a commodious mansion, with spacious rooms and ample hall. The fluted pilasters with Corinthians capitals, the modillions along the cornice, the semicircular balcony, were fitting adornments. The surrounding lawn was smoothly shaven. In the orchard were apples, pears, and melocotoons;[25] in the garden, roses, pinks, primroses, daffodils, bachelor's-buttons, and asters of every hue. The morning sun streaming into the dining-room illumined the richly cut decanters upon the shelves of the buffet. Very attractive, suggestive of ease, comfort, and culture, was the library, with its books and several portraits in gilded frames. The sun of the afternoon filled the richly furnished parlor with its mellow light. The front door opened to a wide hall and stairway, with carved baluster and polished mahogany rail. A clock stood upon the landing soberly counting the hours. Having inherited wealth, with a yearly stipend and many perquisites of office, Mr. Newville was abundantly able to live in a style befitting an officer of the crown. The knocker on the front door was so bright that Pompey could see his own white teeth and rolling eyeballs reflected from the shining brass. When through with the knocker he rubbed the fender, andirons, shovels, tongs, nozzle of the bellows, the hooks by the jams, candlesticks, snuffer, extinguisher, trays, and tinder-box, and wiped the dust from the glazed tiles of the hearth. It was the routine of every morning. Equally bright were the brass pots and pans in Phillis's realm. Pompey and Phillis were bondservants under the mild existing paternal form of slavery.

[Footnote 25: The melocotoon was a variety of peach. The fruit was very large, beautifully colored, and of rich flavor.]

The king's commissioner of imposts perhaps would not have admitted he was passing the prime of life, but the crow's-feet were gathering in the corners of his eyes. His gray tie wig was in keeping with the white hairs upon his brow. He had a mild, blue eye, amiable countenance, and dignified deportment, as became an officer of the crown.

Time was in like manner beginning to turn its furrows upon the brow of the lady who sat opposite him at the table, but she was still very fair, as many a visitor had noticed while partaking of her hospitality.

When breakfast was finished Mr. Newville took his gold-headed cane from its place in the hall, adjusted his wig at the mirror under the sconce, put on his gold-laced hat and walked leisurely, as became his majesty's commissioner of imposts, along Tremont Street to Queen, thence past the jail, the Town House, the pillory and the stocks, to his office in the Custom House.

Mrs. Newville modeled her housekeeping on the last chapter of the Book of Proverbs. She began each morning with instructions to Phillis and Pompey. After breakfast, she walked to the market followed by Pompey at a respectful distance, with a basket to bring home the marketing. She was fastidious in her selection of meats; it must be a loin of beef, very tender, a chicken or duck, plump and fat; the freshest of eggs, and choicest butter. She found great pleasure in dispensing gracious hospitality, inviting the governor and lieutenant-governor of the Province, the justices, councilors, officers of the army and navy, strangers of distinction from other Provinces or from the other side of the sea; reverend doctors of divinity, lawyers, physicians, citizens of standing. She gave garden parties on summer afternoons, the guests sipping tea amid the flowers.

To such an entertainment Berinthia Brandon desired Robert's company. The barber on the corner of the street trimmed and powdered his hair, Mark Antony smoothed the wrinkles from his coat, and Berinthia fixed new ribbons in his knee-buckles.

"I am afraid I shall be so stiff and awkward you will be ashamed of me," he said, as she adjusted his ruffles.

"Oh no, I am sure your common sense will come to your aid."

"I shall not know anybody, and shall feel like a cat in a strange garret."

"But I will introduce you to some charming people."

"I shall make a fool of myself. I have never been in such society, and shall not know what to talk about. If it was like a quilting, such as we have at Rumford, I might get on, but I know I shall be the laughing-stock of the ladies."

"I am not afraid of it. Just be yourself, that's all."

The clock on the Old Brick Meetinghouse was striking three when they passed it on their way to the Newville mansion.

"You will find Mr. Newville a courtly, well-informed gentleman," said Berinthia. "Perhaps I ought to tell you that he is a Tory, which is quite natural, when we consider that he holds an office under the crown. He is very discreet, however, and is careful not to say or do anything offensive to the Sons of Liberty. Of course, political questions are not mentioned at these enjoyable gatherings. We say nothing about the Stamp Act: give all like topics the go-by, and just enjoy ourselves socially. You will find Mrs. Newville a delightful lady, and I know you will be charmed by Miss Ruth, a lovely girl, with gracious ways and a character all her own. I cannot describe her. Only intimate friends can know her goodness. Few young ladies in Boston are more accomplished. Master Lovell[26] is her tutor, visiting her after school hours, to direct her course of study. She has been through the arithmetic, while most of us never have been beyond proportion. Having finished the accidence she has begun Latin; she can tambour, make embroidery, draw, paint, play the harpsichord, and sing so charmingly that people passing along the street stop to listen to the enchanting music."

[Footnote 26: John Lovell was master of the Latin School, in School Street, from 1717 to 1776. He gave his sympathies to the crown, and became an exile upon the evacuation of Boston. His house was near the schoolhouse.]