Chapter 2

"Let me give you a lift, sir," Robert said.

"Thank you. I have been down with the rheumatiz, and can't skip round quite as lively as I could once," said the man as he climbed into the wagon. "'Spect you are from the country and on your way to market, eh?"

Robert replied that he was from New Hampshire.

"Ever been this way before?"

"No, this is my first trip."

"Well, then, perhaps I can p'int out some things that may interest ye."

Robert thanked him.

"This little strip of land we are on is the 'Neck.' This water on our left is Charles River,--this on our right is Gallows Bay. Ye see that thing out there, don't ye?"

The man pointed with his cane. "Well, that's the gallows, where pirates and murderers are hung. Lots of 'em have been swung off there, with thousands of people looking to see 'em have their necks stretched. 'Tain't a pretty sight, though."

The man took a chew of tobacco, and renewed the conversation.

"My name is Peter Bushwick, and yours may be--?"

"Robert Walden."

"Thank ye, Mr. Walden. So ye took the road through Cambridge instead of Charlestown."

"I let Jenny pick the road. That through Charlestown would have been nearer, but I should have to cross the ferry. My father usually comes this way."[2]

[Footnote 2: No bridge from Charlestown had been constructed across Charles Rivers (1769), and the only avenue leading into Boston was from Roxbury.]

"Mighty fine mare, Mr. Walden; ye can see she's a knowing critter. She's got the right kind of an ear; she knows what she's about."

They were at the narrowest part of the peninsula, and Mr. Bushwick told about the barricade built by the first settlers at that point to protect the town from the Indians, and pointed to a large elm-tree which they could see quite a distance ahead.

"That is the Liberty Tree,"[3] he said.

[Footnote 3: The elm-tree stood at the junction of Orange and Essex streets and Frog Lane, now Washington, Essex and Boylston streets. In 1766, upon the repeal of the Stamp Act, a large copper plate was nailed upon the tree with the following inscription: "This tree was planted in the year 1646 and pruned by the Order of the Sons of Liberty February 14, 1766." Other trees stood near it, furnishing a grateful shade. The locality before 1767 was known as Hanover Square, but after the repeal of the Stamp Act, as Liberty Hall. In August, 1767, a flagstaff was raised above its branches; the hoisting of a flag upon the staff was a signal for the assembling of the Sons of Liberty.]

"Why do you call it the Liberty Tree?"

"Because it is where the Sons of Liberty meet. It is a mighty fine tree, and, as near as we can make out, is more than one hundred years old. We hang the Pope there on Guy Fawkes' day, and traitors to liberty on other days."

"I have heard you have jolly good times on Gunpowder Plot days."

"You may believe we do. You would have laughed if you'd been here Gunpowder day seven years ago this coming November, when the Pope, Admiral Byng, Nancy Dawson,[4] and the Devil, all were found hanging on the old elm."

[Footnote 4: Nancy Dawson, when a little girl, was employed in setting up skittles for players in High Street, Mary-le-bone, London. She was agile, graceful, and had an attractive figure. She first appeared as a dancer at Sadler's Wells theatre, where she soon attracted much attention, and in a short time became a great favorite. A rhymster wrote a song for her which was introduced (1764) into the play, "Love in a Valley." It was also arranged as a hornpipe for the harpsichord and sung by young ladies throughout England. Children sang it in the play, "Here we go round the Mulberry bush." The popularity of Nancy Dawson was at its height in 1769.]

"I don't think I ever heard about Admiral Byng and Nancy Dawson."

"Well, then, I must tell ye. Byng didn't fight the French and Spaniards at Minorca, but sailed away and sort o' showed the white feather, and so was court-martialed and shot on his own ship."

"What did Nancy do?"

"Oh, Nancy never did anything except kick up her heels; she's the best dancer in London, so they say. We haven't any theatre in this 'ere town, and don't have much dancing. We have the Thursday lecture instead."

Robert wondered whether the allusion to the lecture was said soberly or in sarcasm.

"In London they go wild over dancing. Maybe I might sing a song about her if ye would like to hear it."

"I would like very much to hear it."

Mr. Bushwick took the quid of tobacco from his mouth, cleared his throat, and sang,--

"'Of all the girls in our town, The black, the fair, the red, the brown, That dance and prance it up and down, There's none like Nancy Dawson.

"'Her easy mien, her shape, so neat, She foots, she trips, she looks so sweet, Her every motion so complete,-- There's none like Nancy Dawson.

"'See how she comes to give surprise, With joy and pleasure in her eyes; To give delight she always tries,-- There's none like Nancy Dawson.'"

"That's a good song," said Robert. Mr. Bushwick put the quid once more in his mouth, and went on with the story.

"On that night a great crowd gathered around the tree; the boys who go to Master Lovell's school came with an old knocked-kneed horse and a rickety wagon with a platform in it. They fixed the effigies on the platform with cords and pulleys, so that the arms and legs would be lifted when the boys under it pulled the strings. We lighted our torches and formed in procession. The fifers played the Rogue's March, and the bellman went ahead singing a song.

"'Don't you remember The fifth of November-- The gunpowder treason plot? I see no reason Why gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot.

"'From the city of Rome The Pope has come Amid ten thousand fears, With fiery serpents to be seen At eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

"'Don't you hear my little bell Go chinking, chinking, chink? Please give me a little money To buy my Pope a drink.'

"The streets were filled with people, who tossed pennies into the bellman's hat. Everybody laughed to see the Pope lifting his hands and working his under jaw as if preaching, Byng rolling his goggle eyes, Nancy kicking with both legs, and the Devil wriggling his tail. We marched awhile, then put the Pope and the devil into the stocks, Nancy in the pillory, tied Byng to the whipping-post and gave him a flogging, then kindled a bonfire in King Street, pitched the effigies into it, and went into the Tun and Bacchus, Bunch of Grapes, and Admiral Vernon, and drank flip, egg-nogg, punch, and black strap."[5]

[Footnote 5: Black strap was composed of rum and molasses, and was often drunk by those who could not afford more expensive beverages.]

Mr. Bushwick chuckled merrily, and took a fresh quid of tobacco. Robert also laughed at the vivacious description.

"But I don't quite see why it should be called the Liberty Tree," Robert said.

"I was coming to that. You know that Lord Bute brought forward the Stamp Act a few years ago: well, this old elm being so near the White Lamb and the White Horse, it was a convenient place for the citizens to meet to talk about the proposition to tax us. One evening Ben Edes, who publishes the 'Gazette and News-Letter,' read what Ike Barre said in Parliament in opposition to the Stamp Act, in which he called us Americans Sons of Liberty, and as that was our meeting-place, we christened the place Liberty Hall and the old elm Liberty Tree. That was in July, 1765, just after Parliament passed the Stamp Act. The king had appointed Andrew Oliver stamp-master, and one morning his effigy was dangling from the tree, and a paper pinned to it writ large:--

"'Fair Freedom's glorious Cause I've meanly quitted For the sake of pelf; But ah, the Devil has me outwitted; Instead of hanging others, I've hanged myself.'

"Then there was a figure of a great boot, with the Devil peeping out of it, to represent the king's minister, Lord Bute. When night came, all hands of us formed in procession, laid the effigies on a bier, marched to the Province House so that the villain, Governor Bernard, could see us, went to Mackerel Lane, tore down the building Oliver was intending to use for the sale of the stamps, went to Fort Hill, ripped the boards from his barn, smashed in his front door, and burned the effigies to let him know we never would consent to be taxed in that way. A few days later Oliver came to the tree, held up his hand, and swore a solemn oath that he never would sell any stamps, so help him God! And he never did, for ye see King George had to back down and repeal the bill. It was the next May when Shubael Coffin, master of the brigantine Harrison, brought the news. We set all the bells to ringing, fired cannon, and tossed up our hats. The rich people opened their purses and paid the debts of everybody in jail. We hung lanterns on the tree in the evening, set off rockets, and kindled bonfires. John Hancock kept open house, with ladies and gentlemen feasting in his parlors, and pipes of wine on tap in the front yard for everybody."

"It must have been a joyful day," said Robert.

"That's what it was. Everybody was generous. Last year when the day came round a lot of us gathered under the old tree to celebrate it. Sam Adams was there, James Otis, Doctor Warren, John Hancock, and ever so many more. We fired salutes, sang songs, and drank fourteen toasts. That was at ten o'clock. Just before noon we rode out to the Greyhound Tavern in Roxbury in carriages and chaises, and had a dinner of fish, roast pig, sirloin, goose, chickens and all the trimmings, topping off with plum-pudding and apple-pie, sang Dickenson's Liberty Song, drank thirty more toasts, forty-four in all, filling our glasses with port, madeira, egg-nogg, flip, punch, and brandy. Some of us, of course, were rather jolly, but we got home all right," said Mr. Bushwick, laughing.

"You mean that some of you were a little weak in the legs," said Robert.

"Yes, and that the streets were rather crooked," Mr. Bushwick replied, laughing once more.

They were abreast of the tree, and Robert reined in Jenny while he admired its beautiful proportions.

"I think I must leave you at this point; my house is down here, on Cow Lane,[6] not far from the house of Sam Adams. I'm ever so much obliged to you for the lift ye've given me," said Mr. Bushwick as he shook hands with Robert.

[Footnote 6: Cow Lane is the present High Street.]

"I thank you for the information you have given me," Robert replied.

Jenny walked on, past the White Horse Inn and the Lamb Tavern. A little farther, and he beheld the Province House, a building with a cupola surmounted by a spire. The weather-vane was an Indian with bow and arrow. The king's arms, carved and gilded, were upon the balcony above the doorway. Chestnut trees shaded the green plot of ground between the building and the street. A soldier with his musket on his shoulder was standing guard. Upon the other side of the way, a few steps farther, was a meetinghouse; he thought it must be the Old South. His father had informed him he would see a brick building with an apothecary's sign on the corner just beyond the Old South, and there it was.[7] Also, the Cromwell's Head Tavern on a cross street, and a schoolhouse, which he concluded must be Master Lovell's Latin School. He suddenly found Jenny quickening her pace, and understood the meaning when she plunged her nose into a watering trough by the town pump. While she was drinking Robert was startled by a bell tolling almost over his head; upon looking up he beheld the dial of a clock and remembered his father had said it was on the Old Brick Meetinghouse; that the building nearly opposite was the Town House.[8] He saw two cannon in the street and a soldier keeping guard before the door. Negro servants were filling their pails at the pump, and kindly pumped water for the mare. Looking down King Street toward the water, he saw the stocks and pillory, the Custom House, and in the distance the masts and yard-arms of ships. Up Queen Street he could see the jail.

[Footnote 7: The building known as the Old Corner Bookstore, at the junction of School and Washington streets. The Cromwell's Head Tavern was No. 19 School Street.]

[Footnote 8: The old brick meetinghouse of the First Church occupied the site of the present Rogers Building, nearly opposite the Old State House.]

The mare, having finished drinking, jogged on. He saw on the left-hand side of the street the shop of Paul Revere, goldsmith.[9] The thought came that possibly he might find something there that would be nice and pretty for Rachel.

[Footnote 9: The shop of Paul Revere stood on Cornhill, now No. 169 Washington Street.]

Jenny, knowing she was nearing the end of her journey, trotted through Union Street, stopping at last in front of a building where an iron rod projected from the wall, supporting a green dragon with wings, open jaws, teeth, and a tongue shaped like a dart.[10] The red-faced landlord was standing in the doorway.

[Footnote 10: The Green Dragon Tavern stood in Green Dragon Lane, now Union street. The lane in 1769 terminated at the mill-pond, a few rods from the tavern. In front it showed two stories, but had three stories and a basement in the rear. The hall was in the second story. The sign was of sheet copper, hanging from an iron rod projecting from the building. The rooms were named Devonshire, Somerset, Norfolk, respectively, for the shires of Old England. The building was about one hundred years old, and was occupied, 1695, by Alexander Smith as a tavern. The estate at one time was owned by Lieut.-Governor William Stoughton, who was acting governor and took a prominent part in persecuting those accused of witchcraft. He was a man of large wealth, and devised a portion of his property to Harvard College, Stoughton Hall being named for him.]

"Well Jenny, old girl, how do you do?" he said, addressing the mare. "So it is the son and not the father? I hope you are well. And how's your dad?"

Robert replied that his father was well.

"Here, Joe; put this mare in the stable, and give her a good rubbing down. She's as nice a piece as ever went on four legs."

The hostler took the reins and Robert stepped from the wagon.

"Pete Augustus, take this gentleman's trunk up to Devonshire. It will be your room, Mr. Walden."

Robert followed the negro upstairs, and discovered that each room had its distinctive name. He could have carried the trunk, but as he was to be a gentleman, it would not be dignified were he to shoulder it. He knew he must be in the market early in the morning, and went to bed soon after supper. He might have gone at once to Copp's Hill, assured of a hearty welcome in the Brandon home, but preferred to make the Green Dragon his abiding-place till through with the business that brought him to Boston.

II.

FIRST DAY IN BOSTON.

Farmers from the towns around Boston were already in the market-place around Faneuil Hall the next morning when Robert drove down from the Green Dragon.[11] Those who had quarters of beef and lamb for sale were cutting the meat upon heavy oaken tables. Fishermen were bringing baskets filled with mackerel and cod from their boats moored in the dock. An old man was pushing a wheelbarrow before him filled with lobsters. Housewives followed by negro servants were purchasing meats and vegetables, holding eggs to the light to see if they were fresh, tasting pats of butter, handling chickens, and haggling with the farmers about the prices of what they had to sell.

[Footnote 11: The market was held in the open space around Faneuil Hall, in which were rails where the farmers from the surrounding towns hitched their horses. It was bounded on one side by the dock where the fishermen moored their boats.]

The town-crier was jingling his bell and shouting that Thomas Russell at the auction room on Queen Street would sell a great variety of plain and spotted, lilac, scarlet, strawberry-colored, and yellow paduasoys, bellandine silks, sateens, galloons, ferrets, grograms, and harratines at half past ten o'clock.

Robert tied Jenny to the hitching-rail, and walked amid the hucksters to see what they had to sell; by observation he could ascertain the state of the market, and govern himself accordingly. After interviewing the hucksters he entered a store.

"No, I don't want any cheese," said the first on whom he called.

"The market is glutted," replied the second.

"If it were a little later in the season I would talk with you," was the answer of the third.

"I've got more on hand now than I know what to do with," said the fourth.

Robert began to think he might have to take them back to Rumford. He saw a sign, "John Hancock, Successor to Thomas Hancock," and remembered that his father had traded there, and that John Hancock was associated with Sam Adams and Doctor Warren in resisting the aggressions of the king's ministers. Mr. Hancock was not in the store, but would soon be there. The clerk said he would look at what Robert had to sell, put on his hat, stepped to the wagon, stood upon the thills, held a cheese to his nose, pressed it with his thumb, tapped it with a gimlet, tasted it, and smacked his lips.

"Your mother makes good cheese," he said.

"My sister made them."

"Your sister, eh. Older than yourself?"

"No, younger; only seventeen."

"Indeed! Well, you may tell her she is a dabster at cheese-making. Do you want cash? If you do I'm afeard we shall not be able to trade, because cash is cash these days; but if you are willing to barter I guess we can dicker, for Mr. Hancock is going to freight a ship to the West Indias and wants something to send in her, and it strikes me the sugar planters at Porto Rico might like a bit of cheese," the clerk said.

"I shall want some sugar, coffee, molasses, codfish, and other things."

"I'll give you the market price for all your cheeses, and make fair rates on what you want from us."

"I can't let you have all. I must reserve two of the best."

"May I ask why you withhold two?"

"Because my father wishes to present one to Mr. Samuel Adams and the other to Doctor Joseph Warren, who are doing so much to preserve the rights of the Colonies."

"Your father's name is"--

"Joshua Walden," said Robert.

"Oh yes, I remember him well. He was down here last winter and I bought his load. He had a barrel of apple-sauce, and Mr. Hancock liked it so well he took it for his own table. There is Mr. Hancock, now," said the clerk, as a chaise drove up and halted before the door.

Robert saw a tall young man, wearing a saffron colored velvet coat, ruffled shirt, buff satin breeches, black silk stockings, and shining shoe-buckles, step in a dignified manner from the chaise and hand the reins to a gray-headed negro, who lifted his hat as he took them.

"Good-morning, Mr. Ledger," he said to the clerk.

"Good-morning," the clerk replied, lifting his hat.

"Well, how is the Mary Jane getting on? Have you found anything in the market on which we can turn a penny? I want to get her off as soon as possible."

"I was just having a talk with this young gentleman about his cheeses. This is Mr. Walden from Rumford. You perhaps may remember his father, with whom we traded last year."

"Oh yes, I remember Mr. Joshua Walden. I hope your father is well. I have not forgotten his earnestness in all matters relating to the welfare of the Colonies. Nor have I forgotten that barrel of apple-sauce he brought to market, and I want to make a bargain for another barrel just like it. All my guests pronounced it superb. Step into the store, Mr. Walden, and, Mr. Ledger, a bottle of madeira, if you please."

The clerk stepped down cellar and returned with a bottle of wine, took from a cupboard a salver and glasses and filled them.

"Shall we have the pleasure of drinking the health of your father?" said Mr. Hancock, courteously touching his glass to Robert's. "Please give him my compliments and say to him that we expect New Hampshire to stand shoulder to shoulder with Massachusetts in the cause of liberty."

Mr. Hancock drank his wine slowly. Robert saw that he stood erect, and remembered he was captain of a military company--the Cadets.

"Will you allow me to take a glass with you for your own health?" he said, refilling the glasses and bowing with dignity and again slowly drinking.

"Mr. Ledger, you will please do what you can to accommodate Mr. Walden in the way of trade. You are right in thinking the planters of Jamaica will like some cheese from our New England dairies, and you may as well unload them at the dock; it will save rehandling them. We must have Mary Jane scudding away as soon as possible."

Mr. Hancock bowed once more and sat down to his writing-desk.

Robert drove his wagon alongside the ship and unloaded the cheeses, then called at the stores around Faneuil Hall to find a market for the yarn and cloth and his wool. Few were ready to pay him money, but at last all was sold.

"Can you direct me to the house of Mr. Samuel Adams?" he asked of the town crier.

"Oh yes, you go through Mackerel Lane[12] to Cow Lane and through that to Purchase Street, and you will see an orchard with apple and pear trees and a big house with stairs outside leading up to a platform on the roof; that's the house. Do you know Sam?"

[Footnote 12: Mackerel Lane is the present Kilby Street.]

"No, I never have seen Mr. Adams."

"Well, if you run across a tall, good-looking man between forty-five and fifty, with blue eyes, who wears a red cloak and cocked hat, and who looks as if he wasn't afeard of the king, the devil, or any of his imps, that is Maltster Sam. We call him Maltster Sam because he once made malt for a living, but didn't live by it because it didn't pay. He's a master hand in town meetings. He made it red-hot for Bernard, and he'll make it hotter for Sammy Hutchinson if he don't mind his p's and q's. Sam is a buster, now, I tell you."

Robert drove through Cow Lane and came to the house. He rapped at the front door, which was opened by a tall man, with a pleasant but resolute countenance, whose clothes were plain and getting threadbare. His hair was beginning to be gray about the temples, and he wore a gray tie wig.

"This is Mr. Adams, is it not?" Robert asked.

"That is my name; what can I do for you?"

"I am Robert Walden from Rumford. I think you know my father."

"Yes, indeed. Please walk in. Son of my friend Joshua Walden? I am glad to see you," said Mr. Adams with a hearty shake of the hand.

"I have brought you a cheese which my father wishes you to accept with his compliments."

"That is just like him; he always brings us something. Please say to him that Mrs. Adams and myself greatly appreciate his kind remembrance of us."

A tall lady with a comely countenance was descending the hall stairs.

"Wife, this is Mr. Walden, son of our old friend; just see what he has brought us."

Robert lifted his hat and was recognized by a gracious courtesy.

"How good everybody is to us. The ravens fed Elijah, but I don't believe they brought cheese to him. We shall be reminded of your kindness every time we sit down to a meal," said Mrs. Adams.