sauntered along the garden walks. The midsummer flowers were gone, but
those of autumn were in bloom,--marigolds, asters, and sunflowers.
Picturesque the scene: ladies in paduasoys, taffetas, and brocades,
gentlemen in purple, russet, and crimson coats, white satin
waistcoats, buff breeches, and silk stockings. Officers of the king's
regiments in scarlet with silver-starred epaulets, clergymen in suits
of black, lawyers and doctors in white wigs, loitering along the
paths, gathered in groups beneath the trees, young ladies serving them
with syllabubs. From the vine-clad arbor the music of the orchestra
floated upon the air.
Robert saw a gentleman and lady shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs.
Newville.
"That is John Adams, one of the smartest lawyers in town," said
Berinthia. "That is his wife Abigail; she is the daughter of Reverend
Mr. Smith, the minister of Braintree. She knows Latin and Greek, and
is one of the nicest women in town. She writes beautiful letters, and
knows--oh, so much! I'll introduce you to them. I know you will be
charmed with her."
Mr. Adams courteously greeted Robert, and very gracious was the
recognition by Mrs. Adams. She asked him if he had ever been in Boston
before; who was the minister in Rumford; if he had many books to read.
So pleasant and agreeable was her conversation, she seemed to Robert
to be an old friend.
Robert was pleased to meet Doctor Warren, and received a cordial
greeting.
"And are you acquainted?" Miss Newville inquired wonderingly.
"I am happy to claim Mr. Walden as my friend. I have long known his
father," the doctor replied.
[Illustration: ABIGAIL SMITH ADAMS]
Robert was pleased, also, to meet Mr. Knox, the bookseller, who was
polite and affable to all, particularly to Miss Flucker.
When Berinthia and Robert were by themselves she informed him that Mr.
Knox was attentive to Miss Flucker; that her parents opposed the
match, Mr. Knox being a Whig and her father a Tory. Berinthia was sure
that the more her father opposed the bookseller, the better Miss Lucy
liked him.
[Illustration: Mr. Hancock's House.]
Mr. John Hancock, though living but a short distance from Mr.
Newville, came in his coach with driver and footmen in blue livery. He
bowed politely to Mr. and Mrs. Newville, took a pinch of snuff from
Mr. Newville's gold box, and graciously greeted Miss Dorothy Quincy.
Berinthia whispered to Robert that they were engaged to be
married.[29]
[Footnote 29: The Dorothy Quincy who married John Hancock is not to be
confounded with the Dorothy Q. of Holmes's poem:--
"Grandmother's mother, her age I guess,
Thirteen summers, or something less."]
"If Miss Newville and Miss Brandon will excuse us, Mr. Walden and
myself will take a turn through the grounds," said Doctor Warren,
locking arms with Robert.
"I am glad to meet you once more, Mr. Walden. I want to thank you for
the good work you did yesterday afternoon. I have heard of it several
times; the people are chuckling over it. But the soldiers of the
Twenty-Ninth Regiment are as mad as hornets and threaten retaliation.
They are anxious to get hold of that fellow from the country who did
it. I thought I would put you on your guard. I wish I knew who the
young lady was, but no one can find out. Neither she nor her friends
have made complaint to the selectmen, and of course you could not
know."
Robert thanked him. He said he did not anticipate any trouble; if
attacked he would try and give a good account of himself.
[Illustration: DOROTHY QUINCY]
They had strolled to the farthest part of the grounds. Returning, they
saw Miss Newville surrounded by ladies and gentlemen; young and old
alike were finding pleasure in her society. Major Evelyn, to whom
Robert had been introduced, was telling how jolly it was in old
England to follow the hounds in a fox hunt, leaping ditches, walls,
and hedges, running Reynard to cover. Although courteously
listening, her eyes glanced towards Robert and Doctor Warren.
"Pardon me, Major, but I must have a word with my good doctor who
gives me pills and powders when I am sick," she said graciously,
tripping across the lawn.
"I have not served you with tea, doctor; what kind would you prefer?"
she said.
"Well, let it be Old Hyson, if you please."
"And yours, Mr. Walden: it was the Old you had before. Will you not
try a cup of Young Hyson for variety?"
"If you please, Miss Newville."
A few moments and she was with them again.
"Old Hyson for old friendship, Young, for new acquaintance," said the
doctor, as he took the cup from her hand. "You see, Mr. Walden, Miss
Newville and I are old friends, and our relations at times are quite
intimate. I am privileged to hold her hand, feel her pulse, and look
at her tongue."
"Do you not think, Mr. Walden, that the doctor is very rude to take a
young lady's hand when she cannot help herself?"
"Of course it is rude, but I apprehend you do not object, under the
circumstances," Robert replied.
"Oh no, she likes it so well that she often asks when I will come
again," said the doctor.
Merry was the laughter.
"This is delicious tea," he said, sipping the beverage.
"I am glad you like it."
"It is all the more delicious, Miss Ruth, because I have it from your
own gracious hand, and because it is probably the last I shall drink
for many months."
She gazed at him wonderingly.
"You know I am firm in my convictions as to what is right and just,
and I have decided to quit drinking tea as a protest against what the
king and Lord North are preparing to do. So this will be a memorial
day for me. Pardon me, I did not mean to allude to it."
"One need not beg pardon for having a conviction of what is right and
just. If it is to be your last cup I'm glad I have the privilege of
serving it," she said.
One by one guests joined them, charmed by her presence, Major Evelyn
hovering around her. More than once the eyes of Robert and Miss
Newville met. Would she not think him rude? But how could he help
looking at her?
While Miss Newville was serving other guests, with Berinthia and Miss
Shrimpton Robert walked the garden once more, the great shaggy
watch-dog trotting in advance, as if they were guests to be honored by
an escort.
The afternoon was waning. Guests were leaving, and it was time for
Berinthia and Robert to take their departure.
"Oh, you are not going now. I have not had an opportunity to speak a
dozen words with you, Berinthia, and I have shamefully neglected Mr.
Walden. I have not had a chance to drink a cup of tea with him. I am
sure you will excuse me, Major Evelyn, while I redeem myself. You will
find Miss Brandon delightful company," said Miss Newville.
Major Evelyn, being thus politely waved one side, could but acquiesce.
"Shall we sit, Mr. Walden?" she asked, leading the way to seats and
bringing tea and cake.
"I enjoyed your description of life in the country, and the young
ladies were delighted," she said.
"We have pretty good times with the quiltings, huskings, and sleighing
parties, when we pile into a double pung, ride in the moonlight, have
supper, and a dance."
"How delightful! Have you brothers and sisters?"
"Only a sister, Rachel, two years younger than I."
"Does she love flowers?"
"Yes, she is very fond of them. I make up beds in the garden for her
and she sows bachelor's-buttons, flytraps, pansies, marigolds,
hollyhocks, and has morning-glories running over strings around the
sitting-room window."
"They must make your home very pleasant in summer."
"Yes, and she has asters and sweet peas. I try to keep the weeds down
for her as she has so many things to look after,--the chickens,
goslins, young turkeys, besides washing dishes, spinning, and wetting
the cloth bleaching on the grass. I help a little by drawing the
water."
"It must be very beautiful in the country these September days."
"It is not quite late enough for the woods to put on their brightest
colors; that will be in October."
"Which season do you like best?"
"I hardly know. Sometimes, when the country is covered with snow and
the air is fresh and keen and healthful, I think there is no part of
the year more enjoyable than winter; then when spring comes, and the
buds start and the leaves are growing, I feel like a young colt ready
to caper and kick up my heels. When the flowers are in bloom and the
birds are singing I think there is no season like summer. At this time
of the year, when we are gathering the harvests and the woods are more
beautiful than our Queen Charlotte in her coronation robes, I think
there is no period of the year so delightful as autumn."
"Living in the town." Miss Newville said, "I lose much that I should
enjoy in the country. Sometimes I ride with my father to Roxbury,
Dorchester, and Cambridge. He sits in his chaise while I pick the
flowers by the roadside. A few weeks ago we went sailing down the
harbor, and saw the waves rolling on the beach at Nantasket and
breaking on the rocks around the lighthouse. Oh, it was beautiful!"
"I do not doubt it. As you love the country so much, I am sure you
would be charmed with the view from our home, Miss Newville,
especially at this season of the year."
"Please tell me about it. I am sure from your description I shall be
able to picture the scene."
"You would see a broad valley, fields, pastures, meadows, uplands, the
river flowing between banks fringed with elms and willows, hills
farther away, and in the distance blue mountains; the forest all
scarlet, russet, yellow, and crimson. That would be the view. You
would hear the crickets chirping, crows cawing, and squirrels barking
in the woods."
"How delightful! I know I should revel in such beauty."
"You asked me, Miss Newville, which season I liked best. I think, all
things considered, I enjoy autumn more than any other portion of the
year."
"May I ask why you like it best?"
"Because it is the harvest-time, when we gather the gifts of
Providence; and it sets me to thinking I ought to be doing something
for somebody in return for what Providence is doing for me."
Her eyes were watching his lips.
"Oh, go on, please, Mr. Walden, and tell me what the seasons say to
you."
"I hardly know what they say, but the change from the brightness of
summer to the russet of autumn, the falling leaves, ripening fruits,
fading flowers, shortening days, the going of the birds are like a
sermon to me."
"And why are they like a sermon?" she asked.
"Because the birds will come, the flowers bloom again, but the summer
that has gone never will return; the opportunities of to-day will not
be here to-morrow. I must make the most of the present, not only for
myself but for others. Providence bestows rich gifts; I must give to
others."
"Thank you, Mr. Walden."
She was silent. None of the officers, not Major Evelyn or any of the
captains of his majesty's troops, ever had uttered such words in her
presence. Oh, could she but know if he were the one who rescued her
from the hands of the miscreants! She must know.
"Mr. Walden, may I ask if we have not met before?"
"I think we have, Miss Newville."
"I thought so, but was not sure. May I say I cannot tell you how
grateful I am for the service you rendered me yesterday. I never shall
forget it. I have not mentioned it, not even to my parents, for I
would not have them concerned in the future for my welfare."
"I can understand how anxious they might be, and I appreciate your
prudence. The incident, I understand, is making some stir in town,
especially among the soldiers. Doctor Warren has just informed me of
it, and was kind enough to say it would be well for me to be on my
guard, as the soldiers threaten retaliation. I learn, also, that no
one as yet has been able to discover who the young lady was. People
are wondering that no complaint has been made to the proper
authorities by her or her friends."
"Oh, I am so glad that no one knows it except ourselves. May I not ask
that it shall be our secret, and ours only?"
"Most certainly, Miss Newville."
"I cannot express my obligation to you, Mr. Walden. It is very
honorable in you, and you will not let the soldiers injure you?" she
said inquiringly.
"I do not think they will molest me. I shall not put myself in their
way, neither shall I avoid them. I am a free citizen; this is my
country. I know my rights, and I trust I shall ever be enough of a man
to resent an insult to myself, and most certainly to a lady."
"Do you remain long in town?" she asked.
"No; only a day or two--over Sunday. I shall start from the Green
Dragon for home next Monday morning."
"Do you have melocotoons in Rumford?" she asked, looking up to the
luscious fruit, ripening above them.
"Not yet; we have some young trees, but they are not in bearing."
"I should like to send a basket of fruit to your sister, if agreeable
to you. Pompey will take it to the tavern Monday morning."
"You are very kind. I will take it with pleasure, and you may be sure
Rachel will appreciate your goodness."
He comprehended her proposition,--that it was her delicate way of
giving emphasis to her thanks for what he had done.
"Mr. Walden, I shall always be pleased to see you. I would like to
hear more about what you see in nature, and the sermons that are
preached to you."
Berinthia and Major Evelyn joined them. The band had ceased playing,
and the last of the guests were departing.
"I hope you have had an enjoyable afternoon," said Mr. Newville.
"I have enjoyed myself very much, and cannot express my thanks for
your hospitality," Robert replied.
"It was very kind in you to honor us with your company," said Mrs.
Newville with a charming grace and dignity.
Miss Newville went with them to the gate, Major Evelyn improving the
opportunity to walk by her side. Robert thought there was a shade of
vexation on her face.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, while I talk with Miss Brandon a moment," she
said, dropping behind. Robert walked on a few steps and waited for
Berinthia. Major Evelyn lingered a moment as if to have a last word
with Miss Newville, but politeness would not admit his further
tarrying; he lifted his hat and walked away.
"Oh, Mr. Walden, what do you think your good cousin has been saying?"
said Miss Newville, calling him once more to the gate.
"Possibly that she has had an agreeable chat with one of his majesty's
brilliant officers," Robert replied.
"Instead of being brilliant, he was positively stupid. I don't like
epaulets," said Berinthia.
"Not those sent to protect us?" Miss Newville asked.
"No."
"Neither do I."
The words were spoken firmly, with an emphasis which Robert alone
could understand.
Miss Newville locked her arm in Berinthia's as if loath to have her
go. They lingered by the gate, how long Robert could not say. Just
what was said he could not recall. He only knew it was delightful to
stand there, to hear her voice, to see the smiles rippling upon her
face, and the loving eyes that turned towards him at times. When at
last the good-night was spoken, when himself and Berinthia were quite
a distance, looking backward he saw her white handkerchief waving them
farewell.
VI.
CHRIST CHURCH CHIMES.
Calm and peaceful was the Sabbath morning in Rumford, where the
stillness was broken only by lowing cattle and singing birds, but in
Boston Robert heard the rattling of drums,--a prolonged roll, as if
the drummers found special pleasure in disturbing the slumbers of the
people. It was the reveille arousing the troops. Mr. Brandon said the
officers of the king's regiments seemed to take delight in having
extra drills on Sunday for the purpose of annoying the people. A few
of the officers, he said, were gentlemen, but others were vile, and
not to be admitted into decent society.
The drums ceased and there was a period of quiet; then suddenly the
air was melodious with the music of bells. Berinthia saw the wonder on
Robert's face.
"It is Christ Church chimes," she said.
He heard "Old Hundred," sweet and enchanting.
"If you would like, we will go to Christ Church this morning."
Robert replied he would gladly go with her.
"The sexton is a Son of Liberty, Robert Newman; you saw him the other
night at the Green Dragon; his brother plays the organ," said Tom.
The sexton welcomed them and gave them seats. Robert gazed in wonder
at the fluted columns, the high arched ceiling, the pillars
supporting the galleries, the great windows, the recess behind the
pulpit, the painting of the Last Supper. He read the words, "This is
none other than the House of God; this is the Gate of Heaven."
The bells ceased their pealing, but suddenly delightful music filled
the church.
[Illustration: Christ Church.]
"That is John Newman at the organ," Berinthia whispered.
It began soft and faint, as if far away--a flute, then a clarinet, a
trumpet, growing louder, nearer, deeper, heavier, the loud notes
rolling like far-off thunder, then dying into melody as sweet as the
song of a bird. Never had Robert heard any music so delightful.
Looking towards the loft, he saw the gilded pipes of the instrument.
Upon the railing around it were figures of angels with trumpets.
"They were captured from a French ship in 1746 by Captain Grushea of
the Queen of Hungary privateer," Tom whispered. "They were designed
for a Romish church in Canada, but the captain brought them to Boston
and presented them to the wardens of this church."
Berinthia said the Bible and prayer-book were given by King George II.
at the request of Governor Belcher. She found the places in the
prayer-book for him. He thought the prayers very beautiful, but could
not quite see the need of getting up and sitting down so often. He
never had taken part in meeting before, but when all the others read
felt he too must let his voice be heard, otherwise the people would
think he did not know how to read. He was startled at the sound of his
own voice, but soon got over it, and rather liked the idea of the
people taking some part in the service instead of having it all done
by the minister. It was very delightful when the choir came in with
the organ, in contrast to the singing in Rumford meetinghouse where
the deacon lined the Psalms, two lines at a time, and set the tune
with his pitch-pipe.
When the service was over and the people were going out, the organ
began to play. The sexton took them upstairs to see his brother John
handle it. Robert was surprised to see him using his feet as well as
his hands, fingering two sets of keys, pushing in and pulling out what
Tom said were "stops." When through with the piece, the organist
explained the mechanism of the instrument, playing softly and then
making the windows rattle.
An hour at noon, and then the meetinghouse bells were tolling for the
afternoon service.
"We will go to our own meeting; I want you to hear Reverend Doctor
Cooper,"[30] said Berinthia. The meetinghouse was in Brattle Street,
close by the barracks. The soldiers were lounging around the building
staring at the people, laughing, smoking their pipes, and making rude
remarks. When meeting was over the soldiers gathered around the door
and leered at the girls. Robert clenched his fist and felt his blood
grow hot. A lieutenant started to walk beside Berinthia.
[Footnote 30: The meetinghouse in Brattle Street at the time of the
opening of this story was a large unpainted wooden structure which was
torn down in 1772 and replaced by an elegant edifice of brick with
quoins of freestone. John Hancock gave one thousand pounds and a bell.
The pastor, Reverend Samuel Cooper, was an earnest advocate for the
rights of the Colonies, and without doubt his influence, combined with
that of Samuel Adams, had much to do in attaching Hancock to the
patriots' side.]
"My cousin will not need your escort, sir," said Robert touching his
elbow.
The officer grew red in the face and disappeared in the barracks.
On Monday morning Robert bade his friends good-by. Peter Augustus had
something for him at the Green Dragon: a basket filled with
fruit--melocotoons, pears, and plums--and a neatly written note.
"Will Mr. Walden kindly take a basket of fruit to his sister, Miss
Rachel, from Ruth Newville."
That was all. What a surprise it would be to Rachel! Why was Miss
Newville sending it? She never had met Rachel; knew nothing of her,
except what little he had said, yet the gift!
The sun was going down the following evening when he reached the turn
of the road bringing him in sight of home. He was yet half a mile
away, but Rachel was standing in the doorway waving her apron. She
could not wait for Jenny to trot home, but came down the road
bareheaded, climbed into the wagon, put her arms around his neck, and
gave him a hug and a kiss. There was a look of wonder on her face when
he uncovered the basket of fruit and told her who had sent it,--a
beautiful girl, one of Berinthia's friends, whom he had rescued from
the king's soldiers. There were tears in Rachel's eyes when he put the
beads around her neck.
"Oh, Rob! how good you are!"
It was all she could say.
* * * * *
November came, and Berinthia Brandon was sitting in her chamber. From
its eastern window she looked across the burial ground with its rows
of headstones. The leafless trees were swaying in the breeze. She was
thinking of what Samuel Adams had said to her, that life is worth
living just in proportion to the service we can render to others. What
had she ever done for anybody? Not much. A feeling of sadness came
over her. The afternoon sun was lengthening the shadows of the
headstones across the grass-grown mounds. The first snow of
approaching winter was lying white and pure above the sleeping forms
of those who had finished their earthly work. Beyond the burial ground
she beheld the harbor. The tide had been at its flood, and was
sweeping towards the sea. A ship was sailing down the roadstead to
begin its adventurous voyage to a distant land.
"Why can I not do something for somebody instead of idling my time
away?" she said to herself, recalling what Mr. Adams had said--that it
was the duty of every woman to forego personal comfort and pleasure
for the promotion of the public good; that everybody should leave off
using tea to let the king, the ministry, and the people of England
know that the men and women of the Colonies could stand resolutely and
unflinchingly for a great principle. With her father, mother, and Tom
she had quit drinking tea; why should she not persuade others to
banish it from their tables? A thought came to her, and she opened her
writing-desk, a gift from her father, beautifully inlaid with ivory,
which he had obtained in a foreign country. She dipped her pen into
the ink, reflected a moment, and then wrote her thought: "_We, the
daughters of patriots, who have stood and do now stand for the public
interest, with pleasure engage with them in denying ourselves the
drinking of foreign tea, in hope to frustrate a plan that tends to
deprive the community of its rights._"[31]
[Footnote 31: The agreement signed by the mothers and daughters may be
found in the _Boston News-Letter_, February 15, 1770.]
In her enthusiasm she walked the floor, thinking of those whom she
would ask to sign it. She would not subject herself to ridicule by
calling upon those who sided with the king, but upon those who she
knew were ready to make sacrifices for justice and right.
"I am glad you have written it, daughter," Mr. Brandon said when she
informed him of what she had done and was intending to do; "I see no
reason, wife, why you should not do what you can in the same way among
the women, to let people on the other side of the sea understand the
Colonies are in earnest. Already there has been a great falling off in
trade between the Colonies and England, and if we can stop this tea
trade it will not be long before the merchants will be swarming around
Parliament demanding something to be done. We must arouse public
sentiment on this question, and you, daughter, are just the girl to
begin it."
Mr. Brandon reached out his hand and took Berinthia's and gave it a
squeeze to let her know he had faith in her.
"I will do what I can to persuade others," she said, returning the
pressure.
Through the night Berinthia was thinking over what she had started to
accomplish, and what arguments she should use to influence those whom
she would ask to sign the agreement. The great idea, with a moral
principle behind it, took possession of her mind and drove sleep from
her eyes and aroused the energies of the soul. Why undertake the
arduous task alone? Why not ask Doctor Cooper to preach about it? If
she could but get the ministers enlisted, they could awaken public
sentiment.
"Ah! I have it. Week after next is Thanksgiving, and I will get them
to preach sermons that will stir up the people," she said to herself.