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.]
[Illustration: Master Lovell.]
"You awaken my curiosity. But what will one who knows so much think of
the awkward fellow keeping you company? Will she not regard me as a
simpleton?"
"No, indeed; that would not be like Ruth Newville. Be assured, she
will do what she can to make it a pleasant occasion to you."
"What can I say that will interest her, what talk about?"
"She will enable you to find your tongue. The chances are that you
will fall in love with her just as everybody else does,--colonels,
majors, captains, lieutenants of the army and navy, besides widowers
and bachelors; but Ruth is too sensible a girl to throw herself away.
Her mother would like her to marry some nobleman, or lord of ancient
family. Ruth does not care much for coats-of-arms or titles, but would
rather be sure of what a man is, rather than who were his ancestors.
But we are almost there."
Many guests had already arrived. Ladies and gentlemen were strolling
beneath the trees in the orchard, and along the garden paths. Pompey
showing his white teeth, his dusky countenance beaming with pleasure,
bowed very courteously as they entered the mansion.
"Massa and Missus Newville will welcome de ladies and genmens in de
garding," he said.
Berinthia led the way and introduced Robert as her relative from New
Hampshire.
"And so you are from that dependency of the crown? What news do you
bring from that Province?" Mr. Newville asked.
"I do not know that there is anything particularly new or interesting.
Not much is going on there. We have had a good crop of hay, the corn
looks middling well; the rye is not much rusted. I think we shall not
want for bread," Robert replied.
"It is excellent news. Bread is the staff of life, and I trust the
people will be grateful for the bounties of Providence, and rest in
peace and quiet under the rule of our gracious sovereign, King
George."
"I hope we shall be truly thankful for all that is good," Robert
replied.
"It is very kind in you to accompany our friend Miss Brandon to our
entertainment this afternoon; we gladly welcome you, Mr. Walden," said
Mrs. Newville, who ran her eyes over him, and, so far as Robert could
judge, rather liking his stalwart form and figure, while saying to
herself that he was no hawk or eagle to bear off her chicken.
"Ruth, daughter, this way, please," said Mrs. Newville.
Robert saw a young lady wearing a white muslin dress turn towards them
from a group of ladies and gentlemen; but it was not the snowy
whiteness of the garment, neither her dark brown unpowdered hair in
contrast to that of the ladies around her, that attracted his
attention, but the hazel eyes and the lips that had said, "I never
shall forget your kindness, sir."
"Mr. Walden, allow me to introduce my daughter," said Mrs. Newville.
There was a startled, wondering look in the hazel eyes. She
courtesied, with the fresh blood suffusing her cheeks.
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walden," she said.
"I took the liberty of bringing him," said Berinthia. "I was sure you
would extend to him the same cordial welcome you give to everybody."
"Certainly, anybody whom you may invite will always be welcome. Mr.
Walden, shall I serve you with a cup of tea? What kind will you
take--shall it be Old Hyson, Bohea, or Twankey?"
She stood with a salver ready to serve him.
"I will take Old Hyson, if you please," he said.
The pink slippers tripped across the lawn to a table where Phillis in
white apron and cap, with smiling countenance, was pouring tea from
silver urns into dainty cups. So this was the young lady whom he had
rescued from the clutches of the villains. What should he say to her?
By no word or look must she know that he was conscious of having
befriended her.
The sun was shining through the branches of the melocotoon tree
beneath which she was standing. It seemed to him that the rich bloom
of the ripening fruit by some subtle process of nature was being
transmuted to her face. He recalled the description of the
pure-hearted damsel that welcomed the Pilgrim of Bunyan's allegory to
the beautiful palace in the land of Beulah. She soon returned bringing
with steady hand the salver with the tea, sugar-bowl, and pitcher of
cream.
"Shall I serve you with the sugar and cream, Mr. Walden?"
He could but notice the graceful movement of her deft fingers as she
picked the sugar from the bowl with the silver tongs, and poured the
cream.
"I will bring you some confections," she said, and tripped away once
more, returning with a plate of cake and bonbons.
"I hope you find the tea to your taste?" she said.
"It could not be better," he replied.
He could see she was scanning his face with an inquiring look, as if
endeavoring to solve a perplexing question--whether the stranger in
working clothes who rescued her from the arms of the assaulting
soldiers and this gentleman in fitting costume for genteel society
were one and the same. "Can it be he?" was the question revolving in
her thoughts. The countryman was tall, stout, and broad-shouldered; so
was Mr. Walden. She saw resolution and indignation in the face of the
stranger. Could not the face before her exhibit like qualities under
like provocation? She must find out during the afternoon, if possible,
whether or not Mr. Walden was her benefactor. If so, what should she
say to him--how make known her gratitude?
"And so you are from New Hampshire, Mr. Walden?" she said inquiringly.
"Yes, and this is my first visit to Boston."
"I dare say you find things somewhat different here from what they are
there."
"Oh yes. In Rumford the houses are scattered; but here they are as
thick as spatter. There isn't near so many things going on there as
here."
"I think it must be delightful to live in the country, among the green
fields and pastures, and have chickens and goslins, and see the lambs
play."
"Yes; but we have to look sharp, to see that the foxes, and hawks, and
weasels don't get 'em."
Their conversation was interrupted by Berinthia, who introduced him to
Miss Lucy Flucker[27], daughter of the secretary of the Province, Miss
Dorothy Quincy, Miss Mary Shrimpton, and to Isaac and John Coffin[28],
sons of his majesty's receiver-general.
[Footnote 27: Miss Flucker received the attentions of Henry Knox the
bookseller, and became his wife. While her father remained loyal to
the king, she became an ardent patriot, and married the man of her
choice. Soon after the battle of Lexington and Concord, Mr. Knox
escaped from Boston. Mrs. Knox received a permit to join him, from
General Gage, who had issued an order prohibiting any one from taking
arms from the town. The patriotic wife concealed her husband's sword
in her underskirts, and successfully eluded the vigilance of the
sentinels.]
[Footnote 28: Isaac Coffin obtained an appointment in his majesty's
navy in 1773. Upon the outbreak of the war he proffered his
resignation, not being willing to fight against his countrymen, but
being assured he would not be sent to North America remained in the
service of the king, rising by merit to the position of rear-admiral.
He retained through life a deep affection for his countrymen, and
endowed a school on the island of Nantucket.
His younger brother John, from the outset, sided with the king. He
joined the British forces, became captain of a company of loyalists,
served under Colonel Tarleton in South Carolina, becoming major,
colonel, and after the war a major-general. He received a grant of
several thousand acres of land in Nova Scotia. Though maintaining
allegiance to the king, he had great respect and admiration for those
who espoused the patriotic cause.]
"Do you have garden tea-parties in Rumford?" Miss Flucker asked.
"No, not garden parties, but the ladies get together in a parlor, sip
their tea, take pinches of snuff from each other's boxes, talk about
the number of cheeses they have made, how much salt they put into the
curd, how much yarn they have spun, how many yards of linen they have
woven."
"Such a party must be very enjoyable," said Miss Quincy.
"Yes, I think they like to find out what everybody else is doing, and
how they do it. Their tongues wag lively when they get to talking
about what has happened and what they expect will happen; who was
cried the Sunday before, and who probably will be the next Sunday."
The ladies smiled at Robert's vivacious conversation.
"Does the town clerk cry the proposed marriages?" Miss Shrimpton
asked.
"Yes. The moment the minister finishes the benediction Sunday
afternoon, Squire Fellows breaks in, shouting that marriage is
intended between Hezekiah and Mehitable. Of course there are blushes
on Mehitable's face, while Hezekiah looks kinder sheepish."
Again the ladies laughed.
"Do all the ladies take snuff?"
Miss Flucker asked the question.
"Nearly all the old ladies carry their snuff-boxes in their pockets or
work-bags. There's one lady, however, who does not--Aunt Hipsy
Jenkins. Perhaps I ought to say she is well along in years, and that
the town clerk never has cried her. She carries her nose as she
pleases. She says if the Lord had intended it for a dust-hole, he
would have put it on the other end up."
A merry peal of laughter rang through the garden--so joyful that
several ladies and gentlemen joined the group, to hear what the young
man from the country was saying.
"Her name," said Robert, by way of explanation, "is Hepsibah, but
everybody calls her Hipsy."
"Evidently," said Isaac Coffin, "she is a lady who is up to snuff."
Again the company laughed.
"You may be sure she never minces things, but speaks her mind, whether
anybody likes it or not," Robert replied.
"Are the gentlemen invited to the tea-parties?" John Coffin asked.
"Not to the afternoon parties, neither are the young ladies; the old
ladies like to be by themselves while sipping their tea. Perhaps they
think it would not be dignified on the part of the gentlemen to devote
the afternoons to gossip," Robert replied.
"Do not the young ladies meet?" Miss Shrimpton asked.
"Not as do our mothers, but they have their own good times,--their
quilting parties. In the country every girl as soon as she can sew
begins to make patchwork. When they get enough for a quilt, they
invite their acquaintances to the quilting, and spend the afternoon in
talking about--well, I can't exactly say what they do talk about.
Perhaps you ladies can tell better than I."
The ladies smiled at his pleasant way of indicating what was uppermost
in the thoughts of young maidens on such delightful occasions.
"Do not the gentlemen participate in some way?" Miss Quincy inquired.
"Oh yes; we join them in the evening, after they are through with the
quilting, and try to make things lively. We play blindman's-buff,
hide the handkerchief, roast beef behind your back, come Philander,
stage-coach, and other games, and have a jolly time. The ladies serve
us with bread and butter, doughnuts, cookies, tarts, gingerbread, and
tea. We guess riddles and tell ghost stories."
"How delightful!" Miss Newville exclaimed.
"A little later than this we have huskings in the barns, seated around
a heap of corn. Husking over, we eat pudding, baked beans, mince,
apple, and pumpkin pie, and top off with pop-corn, apples, and cider.
After supper the girls clear away the dishes; then we push the table
into one corner of the kitchen, Julius Caesar mounts it with his
fiddle, and we dance jigs and quicksteps. The girl who first found a
red ear while husking, and was kissed before she could throw it into
the basket, is privileged to lead the dance."
"How I should enjoy it," said Miss Shrimpton.
"Finding the red ear?" queried Isaac Coffin.
"Oh no,--you know I didn't mean that; but having such a jolly time
with nobody saying it isn't proper," Miss Shrimpton replied with a
blush mantling her cheek.
"Ruth, daughter,"--it was Mrs. Newville calling her to meet other
guests, and Miss Newville turned regretfully away, for it was a
pleasure to talk with Mr. Walden, and she hoped he would drop a word
which would enable her to make sure it was he who had befriended her.