Part 5

"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.]

"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.