The Baldwin Library
7G
STORIES
OF
COLONIAL CHILDREN
By MARA L. PRATT,
Author of “ American History Stories,†“ Young Folk’s Library
of American History,†Etc.
EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
BOSTON
New York CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO
CopyrIGHTED
By EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY,
1894,
INDEX.
Two Babies of Long Ago
First Washing Day
Landing of the Pilgrims
First Winter in the Colony
Visitors in the Homes
First Thanksgiving Day .
Two little Colony Girls
Other Colonies
Massachusetts Bay Coony :
Colonial Schools :
* Colonial Children’s Sabbath
Indian Troubles
Lady Yeardley’s Visitor
Boy Captive
How Jack o’ Lantern F ivhianedl the Tarn
Two Brass Kettles
Mercy and Josh Cary
Hundred Years from the Settlement
War of the Revolution
Cause of the War :
Children Just Before the War
Boston Boys
A Daring Girl 5
Col. Allan and His Boys
A Little Hero 5 ; :
Colonial Days at an End ° . .
Pace
13
19
25
34
43
51
66
72
77
92
104
113
121
129
134
140
153
163
170
178
181
189
195
208
217
NATIONAL MONUMENT TO THE FOREFATHERS, ERECTED AT PLYMOUTH, MASS.
STORIES OF COLONIAL OHILDREN,
TWO BABIES OF LONG AGO.
Those two little baby boys! They were
very, very welcome; yes, indeed. Pray do not
think they were not. It was only that the
cabin of the odd little vessel, the Mayflower,
was so dark and cold and crowded.
There was not very much room; there
were no pretty little cradles, with soft white
7
8 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
blankets; nor were there any dainty little
baskets, with tiny combs and brushes, and
puffs and powders, all ready for the babies’
use,
But after all, what did it matter? There
were the loving mother arms, which are better
than cradles, if a baby can’t have both; and
there were the proud and happy papas, each
one, of course, thinking his baby whole worlds
sweeter than any other baby ever born.
And then the aunts and the uncles those
two babies had! Every man and woman on
board the vessel declared themselves aunt and
uncle to these two wonderful new babies; and
so anxious were they all to help take care of
the little fellows and hold them on their laps,
that even had they had the cradles and soft
blankets, the babies would have had little time
to use them.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 9
How the sweet-faced, brown-eyed Priscilla
loved to sit whole hours, crooning softly
the quaint old hymn tunes—it was the fashion
in those days to sing — looking down into
the little baby faces all the while.
There was the bright-faced, gay-hearted
Mary Chilton. She would trot the babies on
her knee, pouring all the while such bright.
funny stories into their baby ears, that young
as they were, they would laugh back at her —
at least, so the aunts and uncles used to say.
“What shall we name these babies?â€
asked the fathers and the mothers and the
aunts and the uncles.
“Name them James,†suggested one.
“What!†cried the two fathers. “Name
our babies James! Have you forgotten that
James is the name of the king of England?
And have you forgotten that we are escaping
10 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
from the injustice of that king towards us,
and the cruelty of the English people?
“Have you forgotten that this very ship
was built to bring us across this great ocean
to the New World, that we may be as far from
that king and his law as we can be? Have
you forgotten that it is he that has driven us
from dear old England, to seek freedom for
ourselves in this new country, that we have
never seen?†|
os No! No!†cried all the aunts and uncles.
“Certainly the babies cannot. be named after
the English king.â€
“But the babies must be named,†said
one, soberly.
“Truly they must,†said another.
“But what shall it be?†asked another.
At last, one day it came into the heads of
the fathers to give their babies names that
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 11
should forever keep in mind the fact of their
birth upon the ocean while their parents were
wandering about, driven hither and thither by
the wind and tide, in search of a new home.
“J have been thinking,†said Goodman
Hopkins, “that since my little son was born
out in mid ocean, I should like to name
him Ocean. Still, it sounds rather odd as a
name for a child.â€
“And I,†said Goodman White, “since
my little son was born almost in the very
harbor, and so near at the close of our
long wanderings, I should like to name him
Wandering; still, as you Sehy, te iS Bl very
strange name for a child.†$
“Wt inutile Il Gain Ineiho you,†sanal tine
minister, who had come: with his little flock
across the great, wide sea. “In the Latin I
have learned, there are words that mean Ocean
12 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
and Wandering, which will perhaps strike
more pleasantly upon your ear.. Those words
are Oceanus and Peregrine.â€
)
“Peregrine; Peregrine; Peregrine;†said
Goodman White, saying the word over and over,
that he might grow used to the sound of it.
)
“Oceanus; Oceanus; Oceanus;†echoed
Goodman Hopkins. “Peregrine White,â€
“Oceanus Hopkins,†murmured the mothers,
the aunts and the uncles. The names were
a little unusual; but these people, as you will
learn by and by, were themselves unusual.
The names were rather heavy for little
babies; but “ pet names†were not the fashion
two hundred years ago; and as to obey the
minister, even in his slightest wish, was the
fashion, it was settled at once that these little
wandering “water-babies†should be named
Peregrine and Oceanus.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 13
THE FIRST WASHING DAY.
Did you ever wonder how it came about
that we in this country must do the family
washing on Monday,— always on Monday?
There are countries in Europe where it is
the fashion to have, now and then, one great
“washing day â€â€™â€” but only a few times in the
year. In our country it is the fashion to have
a “washing day†once a week; and so, of
course, it is not a great day with us, coming,
as it does, so often.
These European people sometimes laugh
at us, and say that we are “forever over the
wash tub.†Well, perhaps we are. We won't
argue about that; but one thing is sure: we
come rightly enough by it. For what was the
very first thing, do you think, these Pilgrim
14 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
forefathers and foremothers of ours did when
‘they reached the shores of this continent ?
You see, the Mayflower had drifted into
Massachusetts Bay, and there it lay at anchor
just outside a little sheltered cove. The
Pilgrims, some of them, had gone ashore to
learn whether or not this was a suitable place
for landing. It. was a Monday morning,
Nobody has ever told us; but it seems there
came over the hearts of the good housekeeper
women of the little band, the old-fashioned
desire to “tidy up.â€
“What a fine place to do our washing,
there in that little cove,†said one good woman,
looking longingly out across the water towards
the shore.
[Ves yes chled sallarne womens = Nog
"a proper washing-day have we had in all these
long weeks.â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 15
“And there are Baby Peregrine’s dresses!â€
said Baby Peregrine’s mother.
“And Oceanus’s blanket!†said Baby
Oceanus’s mother.
“We will take them all with us,†laughed
the other good women, who, having no babies,
were free to wash to their heart’s content.
“You are kind to do this for our babies,â€
said the two mothers. “It seems almost
wrong that we should not do it ourselves.â€
“But the babies elone 6) as alllâ€
laughed Mary Chilton. “We are all aunts to
the babies you know.†|
Well, to make a long story short, what do
you suppose these thrifty women did? They
would rather have died than not to have been
clean—these Pilgrims.
So the “washing†was gotten together,
the women were rowed to the shore, and there
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 17
in the cold, salty water of the bay,†this
Monday morning in the month of November
1620, these foremothers of our nation washed
and scrubbed in good English fashion. And
the forefathers helped too. They built fires;
they heated the water; and they helped to
hang the clothes upon the trees and spread
them out upon the snow.
It was not the way of these people to talk,
or to laugh very much, or to be very gay; but,
in their own quiet way, we have no doubt that
they had a most happy time of it.
“Tt is very good to be clean,†said one,
with a sigh of contentment, when the clothes
were all washed and dried.
“Cleanliness is akin to godliness,†said
another soberly, looking with satisfaction
upon the great heap of fresh clean clothes, as
they rowed back in their boat to the Mayflower.
18 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. |
Do you think little boys, little girls, that
washing day isn’t history? Do you think
history is all battles ? o no; that wash-
ing-day is the very best of history. And why ?
Listen: because it shows the spirit of the
times; and that is history always.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 19
THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.
The Pilgrims had hoped to reach the
Hudson river; but the storms had been
severe, the currents were strong, and they
found themselves driven into Massachusetts
Bay. It was bitter cold; the bay was full of
ice; and the winds were sharp and cutting.
“We had hoped to reach a shore farther
south,†said William Brewster, the good
minister who, you remember, found the Latin
names for Oceanus and Peregrine; “but all is
for the best, and we will dwell here where we
have been sent.â€
For some reason they did not find this
cove, in which they had built their fires and
washed, suitable for a landing place.
“Let us sail on a little farther, keeping
20 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
close to the shore,†said one. And so it came
about that the Mayflower came at last into the
little bay known now as Plymouth Bay.
‘Wet us land here,†said one.
“And build our homes upon that sunny
slope of land,†said another.
“Or on the brow of the hill,†said a third.
SOr at the foot of the ml, along the
shore,†said a fourth.
“Tt seems a pleasant place,†said William
Brewster, simply.
The Mayflower dropped anchor.
days later the boat was lowered, and the
Pilgrims were carried to the shore. In the
first boatload was Mary Chilton —the gay,
merry-hearted Mary Chilton that the babies
loved so well.
The Pilgrims were a very sober, earnest
people; almost too sober and too earnest.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. . 21
ntey held aacimetombencaya elven tie:
children — and there were many on board the
Mayflower,— if they romped too hard’ or
laughed too loud, were sure to hear a solemn
“Hush!†from their elders.
But bright-eyed, light-hearted Mary Chil-
ton —she would keep gay in spite of all.
How the children loved her! And the elders,
even when they reproved her, as they some-
times felt it their duty to do, could not but
feel kindly towards her. She was so hopeful,
and bright, and joyous.
And so it was Mary Chilton who, with a
laugh and a bound, sprang from the boat; the
first woman to step foot on the shore of the spot
the Pilgrims had chosen for their new home.
In another boat-load were the two babies,
looking like nothing but bundles of shawls,
held tight in the arms of their loving mothers.
22 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Precious bundles these babies were; at least so
the Pilgrims thought, as the little fellows
reached the shore, and were lifted out upop
teem OC |
Back and forth the little boat plied
between the ship and the shore until the
whole company of one hundred and two were
landed. It was bitter cold— Dec. 22—and
the Pilgrims were not warmly clad.
“But it is so good to be on land again!â€
cried Mary Chilton, her eyes sparkling and
her red cheeks glowing.
“We shall soon build our own homes,â€
said Miles Standish manfully; “and when
Spring comes, we shall plant our fields and
forget all the troubles we have known in Old
England.â€
“Let us thank God for His care, and
guidance into this haven of rest,†said William
94 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Brewster; and there, about the rock upon
which they had landed, these simple-hearted,
honest Pilgrims knelt and prayed. Then they
sang a grand old hymn of thanksgiving, in
which— would you believe it?—jit is some
where said that even Peregrine and Oceanus
joined their voices, sending up as loud a wail
as their two little throats could make. Poor
little babies! Very likely they were cold; for
indeed, it was bitter, bitter cold that snowy
morning of Dec. 22, 1620, when the Pilgrims
landed upon the shores of Plymouth Bay.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 25
THE BABIES FIRST WINTER IN THE
COLONY.
A large, rough shed-fort had been built on
the hill; and in this the colonists must live
together until homes could be built for their
families.
“My wife and my baby, Peregrine, must
have a home of their own,’ Goodman White
would say, as he took the little bundle of
clumsy shawls in his arms; for you remember
these babies had no dainty blankets and puffs
of eiderdown, as babies have to-day.
“And Oceanus,—he, too, must have a
home,†said Goodman Hopkins.
The colonists were all industrious, hard-
working, earnest men. There were no lazy
men or women among them. Even the
26 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
children — Humility Cooper, Desire Minter,
Remember Allerton, Love Brewster, and other
children with names just as queer, were sober,
earnest little creatures, ready always to help, as
well as they could, their mothers and their
fathers to build their homes. They were
as anxious about the little village as the
fathers and mothers themselves,— these old
little children. -
The men went briskly to work, even on
the day they landed, to fell the trees and clear
the forests for their houses. The women set to
work cooking and washing, brewing and_spin-
ning; the children helped; and you may.be sure
it was not long before the smoke curled up
from many a little chimney, and the little
rough houses were filled with happy families.
There was Goodman White’s little rough
house, and not far from it the house of Good.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 27
man Hopkins. The two babies grew older
and wiser every day.
Such a comfort as these two babies were
to the hard-working men and women. Busy
as they were, there was always time to look in
upon the babies; always time for a loving
word and a gentle push for the clumsy little
cradles they now slept in.
And when, after the homes had been
built, and the babies had been taken away by
their fathers and ‘their mothers, it came to be
the most natural thing in the world for the
women to make very, very frequent calls at
the babies’ homes. The men, too, coming
home from their work in the forests or in the
fields, often turned out of their way to look
in upon the babies, Peregrine and Oceanus.
It was well these sturdy, hard-working
men and women had these wee babies to love
28 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
and watch over. It kept their hearts open.
Sometimes grown-up people forget to be
gentle and tender in the busy rush of life if
there are no little folks to remind them.
I wish I could tell you that these brave
people, now that they had found a home, were
forever after happy and prosperous. Certainly
they deserved to be; but the climate was
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 29
severe; the winter was hard and long; the
snow and ice so deep that hunting and fishing
were almost impossible.
The Pilgrims were not warmly clad, food
was scarce, and, alas, before the winter was
over nearly half the brave little band had died.
Among the very first was Rose, the beautiful
young wife of Miles Standish, the captain of
the little company; and soon after the father
of little Peregrine himself. It was a bitter
winter. Food was already scarce, and one day
the great log fort where all their corn and
winter supply of food was stored took fire.
The Pilgrims caught fish and lobsters:
and when the tide was out, gathered clams
along the shore. A few times they killed a
deer; but often they were so-weak from hunger
that even the strongest among them staggered
as they walked.
30 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
The babies, too, had their part in the
hardships of an early New England winter.
There were no stoves in these days, of course
you know. Furnace or steam heat for keeping
a house evenly warmed? Why, the Pilgrims
would have thought a man crazy had he said
that such a thing were possible. The only
heat in these early homes was from the great
open fire-places, which usually stretched nearly
across the whole side of a room.
Now, these open fire-places are delightful
things to read about in books. When we
read of New England families of long ago
sitting before the great fires, telling stories,
popping corn, and eating apples, we think,
“How sociable! how home-like!†and we are
almost sorry we haven't great fire-places now.
But, strange to say, the people who had them
in their homes and grew up beside them,
‘STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 31
never have quite the feeling about them that
we think they should have.
One writer, in speaking of the Colonial
babies and these fireplaces says: “The Col-
onial baby had a real struggle for life. In the
AN OLD COLONIAL FIRE-PLACE.
winter time, except at such moments when he
was scorched by the flames of the roaring
wood fire, he must have been shivering with
cold, for the temperature four feet away from
82 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN
the chimney on a raw winter's day would
surely make any child scream with discomfort.
“On the Sunday following his birth the
little martyr was carried to the meeting house
to be baptized. Often the water was so frozen
over in the christening bowl that the ice had
to be broken.â€
However, if this had been the only day
the little one had to go to church it might not
have been so very bad; but these Colonial
mothers were devoted church-goers. It was a
heavy storm, with snow banked high, that
could keep either men or women at home.
And if mothers went babies had to go too.
Sometimes the mothers held them in
their arms during the long, long sermon,
wrapped up in blankets and shawls. But in
warmer weather, there were often little wooden
cages in which the babies were set, that the
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 33
mother might give her whole attention to the
sermon.
It is little wonder that poor little baby
Oceanus died very young. Indeed, we wonder,
rather, that baby Peregrine had the courage
to live on, as he did, through it all. For we
-are told in the Plymouth records that “Pere-
grine White lived to the good old age of
eighty years.â€
CRADLE OF PEREGRINE WHITE,
34 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
VISITORS IN THE HOMES OF THE
PILGRIM BABIES.
While the Pilgrims were landing their
household goods upon Plymouth Rock, they
saw upon the brow of the hill, a little back
from the shore, some Indians. They were
talking together, pointing towards the white
men and making earnest signs to one another.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 35
“Indians!†whispered one of the Pilgrims.
In a second every man had dropped his work
and was looking towards the hill.
“Ugh! ugh!†grunted the Indians; which
meant, “The white men see us! The white
men see us!†For some reason the Indians
did not care to be seen just then; so they
turned, ran down the hill, and in a second
were out of sight.
“What does it mean?†the Pilgrims
asked of each other.
IB imo) ine Cowuilkel welll, Winey inner love
afraid. Perhaps they fled from us when they
knew we saw them,†said one.
“Or quite as likely they may have been
scouts sent by their tribe to spy upon us,â€
said another.
“At any rate,†said the brave Captain
Myles Standish, “let us be always on our
86 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
guard. There is no way to know what they
will do next. Let us keep our muskets
ready. Let us never go forth into the woods
without them; and let us never leave our
wives and children in the colony unprotected.â€
Weeks passed by. Not an Indian had
been seen since the first landing. “ Perhaps
they mean never to come again,†said some of
the colonists. Myles Standish shook his
head wisely. “Quite as likely they may be
planning an attack upon us.â€
At last, one morning in March, there
appeared suddenly in their midst, a_ tall,
straight Indian, dressed in his very best paint
and feathers, a bear skin thrown about his
shoulders. ie
The white men were holding a town
meeting. One colonist was in the midst of an
earnest speech. He stopped. Each man
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 37
seized his musket. Breathless they waited to
hear what the strange visitor should say. For
a moment he stood gazing at them. He
neither smiled nor scowled. He looked them
over; seemed to wonder what they were
doing; then, giving a little grunt, he said,
“Welcome, welcome, Englishmen!â€
Where he had learned those words, no
one knew; nor did the colonists care, if only
he meant what he said.
“Welcome, welcome, Indian!†returned
the colonists. At this, Samoset— for that
was the Indian’s name— gave another Ugh!
—this time a sign of satisfaction. He went
with the colonists to their homes; he sat at
their tables and ate their food. Indeed, he
settled himself down to spend the night with
his new friends, so delighted was he with their
welcome.
38 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
The Pilgrims were hardly prepared to
receive guests quite yet, especially Indian
guests. But they well knew Samoset must
neither be angered nor sent away displeased.
So they gave him presents, and made him a
comfortable bed near a great roaring fire-place.
Then, although pretending to. sleep, they kept
careful watch over him all night long.
“He seems friendly to be sure,†said they,
“but we can not be certain that he is not a spy
sent ahead by his tribe, while they follow
under cover of the night.â€
But Samoset was honest in this visit ;
and in the morning, after a good warm _break-
fast, he went away with his presents, as happy
as a child.
The colonists were glad indeed when he
had gone; for he had not been the easiest
guest that ever was to entertain. But. alas!
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 89
their joy was short-lived; for back he came,
the very next day, and bringing with him five
other Indians. He had no idea but they
would be just as welcome as he had been.
Perhaps he reasoned that, if one Indian had
been so welcome the day before, five Indians
40 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
would be five times as welcome. At any rate
there they were; and there was nothing for
the colonists to do but to be five times as
polite and hospitable as they had been the day
before. And so these five were fed and
entertained all day long, much to the delight
of Samoset who, no doubt, had promised them
a rare treat. At nigl-t-fall the five went away;
‘but Samoset had made up his mind to stay
with the white men—forever, for all they
could tell.
“What shall we do with him?†they
groaned, as the days passed on. “We dare not
pay him less attention; but we must do our
work.â€
“Send him to bring his chief to us. Tell
him that we must see Massasoit,†answered
Myles Standish. And in this way they were
rid of him again for a time.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 41
In a few days Massasoit came. He was
a larger, stronger, straighter Indian than
Samoset. He wore more feathers and brighter
colored paint. He was terrible to look upon.
“Ugh!†said he, looking at the babies.
“Squaw,†said he, looking at Mistress
White, who held Peregrine close to her heart
lest this chief should take a fancy to ask to
carry him off.
“ Pappoose,†said he again, looking at the
baby with considerable curiosity. “White
pappoose. Ugh! †But Mistress White need
not have been afraid. A white, pale little
baby, wrapped in shawls and carefully guarded
from all cold or pain or hunger, was not an
Indian’s idea of a fine baby at all. An Indian
baby, from the very beginning, is hardened to
all such sufferings, to make him a good
warrior by and by. If he dies, it is no matter.
42 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“He had better have died,’ even his own
father would say, “if he could bear no more
than that. What kind of a brave would he
have made!â€
Massasoit, after he had been shown about
the colony, and had been loaded with presents,
sat down with the colonial governor, John
Carver, to smoke the pipe of peace. It was a
long smoke; for much that was said had to be
told each other by signs. It took a long time
to make the treaty with Massasoit, that should
protect the colonists from the great chief's
warriors. The treaty was made, however, and
Massasoit promised that his tribe should
never harm the colonists as long as he, the
chief, should live. This treaty was faithfully
kept, and for a long time the English and the
Indians lived at peace together.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 48
THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY.
Such an autumn as there was in 1622!
And such a harvest!
“God be praised!†said Gov. Bradford,
looking out across the rich yellow fields with
their wealth of harvest. “Let us appoint a
day for solemn service of thanks to God who
hath poured out upon us, his chosen people,
such rich blessings.â€
“A Thanksgiving Day!
Day!†cried the colonists, falling in at once
with their Governor’s wish.
“Tt seeineth right,’ said Gov. Bradford
thoughtfully. “God has granted us peace and
plenty; he has blessed us with a dwelling
place of peace; he has held back the savage
red man from bringing harm to us. There-
44 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
fore let us appoint a day of Thanksgiving;
and to our feast let us bid the Sachem come
with his braves, that they may know that we
too worship their Great Spirit— the God that
makes the harvest grow. So shoulder your
muskets, good hunters; and fishermen, get
ready your lines; and you, too, sweet maidens
and gentle housewives, do your part in the
great feast-making. We men will bring to
you the fish and the fowl and the wealth of
the rich broad fields. Your part shall be to
prepare it. Load down the tables; and let
us feast and make merry as becomes a people
so favored as we.â€
There was great rejoicing in the little
colony. In Old England there had been so
many feast-days! To be sure, these Puritan-
Pilgrims had not approved of them — indeed
they had frowned severely upon them. “ Life
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 45
is too serious to be wasted in merry-making,â€
they had often said. But for all that, they
had found the long months of all-work-and-no-
play sometimes heavy to bear. Now there
was to be a feast-day—the first feast-day in
their new home; and everybody hailed it with
delight.
The golden pumpkins were harvested;
the corn was husked; the home-made beer was
brewed; the wild plums and grapes were
gathered; and preparation was made in every
cabin for a generous Thanksgiving dinner.
How the children rejoiced in this day!
Pies and cakes —all they wanted! Puddings ?
O yes! And pop-corn— not in wire poppers,
to be sure; but hidden in the hot ashes, and
watched and watched until the little pop! pop!
was heard, and the explosive little kernel
bounced up into the air, out perhaps across
&
46 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
the room. Then the laughing and the scram-
bling to find those kernels!
And the getting ready for: the Thanks-
giving—there was fun in that for the children.
Patient little Desire Minter and Remember
Allerton, yes, and the boy, ‘Love Brewster, —
they had their part in it all; for there were the
pumpkins to be sliced for future pies, and the
plums to be dried for future preserves. The
pumpkin slicing was the best fun of all.
First the pumpkin must be halved —then it
must be cut into rings —and woe to the child
so clumsy as to break those rings. Then the
rings must be laid upon the table and -the
tough rind sliced off. It was hard work; but
these children were trained to hard work. And
it was careful painstaking work; but these
children were in all things careful, painstaking
Cnllowen, Iie ‘was, madlees!, wie Sjomiie Ol ioe
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 47
colonial times to be careful and painstaking.
And then when the pumpkin rings were
gach! Wine jorclke iinesé clavichnain sieht ian
their little hearts when they saw their work
strung across the room above the fire-place!
: At length the feast-day was at hand.
Early in the morning the families were awake
and at work. First, there was the breakfast
to be prepared; for Thanksgiving began at
breakfast time. Then there was the sermon
that the good Elder Brewster had prepared for
the day. I wonder what it was like. I am
afraid it was very long and very dry; and that
the children away down in their sober little
hearts were restless to get “away to their
homes for the good things they knew they
were to have.
A feast-day meant so much to the colonial
children! On such a day they were likely
48 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
to be allowed very much more freedom than
was their usual lot; for in those days children
were kept very strict and straight. Had
One Ol EMeMI UGS CrOUta vite aa © mamaria:
mamma! See what I’ve found!†as you do
to-day, he would surely have been hushed with
a chilling “Children should be seen and not
heard.†Or if the little girls had shown even
a bit of natural vanity in their own pretty,
childish faces, they would have been severely
reproved with a sharp “Handsome is that
handsome does, my child.â€
But we must not forget the guests these
people had invited. “Inviting company†you
see, was, from the very first,a New England
custom for Thanksgiving Day.
The great Sachem, Massasoit, regardless
of etiquette, came early in the morning, bring-
ing with him a hundred braves. To come
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. , 49
_into the colony to a feast was an opportunity
not to be lost, so the red men thought; there-
fore they came in time for breakfast, intending,
certainly, to stay till “after tea,†or longer, no
doubt, if the feast held out. They were
strange guests; but the colonists were hospi-
table, the Indians had been true to their pledge
of friendship, and there was the best of feeling
between them.
All day long they visited from one cabin to
another, playing with the children, and watch-
ing with great curiosity the process of cooking
in the different homes. It was like no cooking
they had ever seen; but when the time for
eating came, they showed their approval of it
by the way they cleared table after table of the
food set before them. There is no doubt the
day was a joyous one, both to the red men and
to the colonists.
50 - STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“Ugh!†grunted Massasoit in true Indian
fashion as he went away. “The Great Spirit
loves the white children best;†which was,
perhaps, his way of congratulating the colo-
nists on their success and prosperity; or
perhaps—who can tell? it may have been
the great Sachem’s first recognition of what
christianized, civilized life might mean to
honest, earnest men and women like these
early Puritans.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 51
MILLS STANDISH’S HOUSE,
TWO LITTLE PLYMOUTH COLONY
GIRLS.
It was not very long before Baby Pere
grine was forced to share his honors with
another little baby that came to take up its
life in the colony. But this time the baby
was a girl— Betty Alden she was called —
the first girl baby born in the Plymouth
colony !
And a bright little thing this baby was;
as bright and pretty and full of life as her
own sweet mother had ever been. And
52 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
when her father, John Alden, returned each
evening to his little home, after a hard
day’s work upon his rocky farm land, or
from a long tramp through the wood, or
along the shore, in search of game, and
found always waiting for his coming this
little rosy daughter and her sweet, brave,
busy, young mother, he could only look
from one to the other and wonder which
one he loved best.
For the Alden family was a very happy
one, and the good father was deeply thankful
for the joy that had come to him through
his dear wife and this beautiful baby.
There had been a time when Baby
Betty's mother had been very homesick and
lonesome; for the cruel fever that had car-
ried away so many of the brave colonists
during that first hard winter, had taken her
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 58
dear ones, one by one, until she had been
left alone. To be sure, every door in every
little home in the settlement was open to her,
and there was not a family but would have
been glad to have her come to them; still
Priscilla) was sad, for none of these good
neighbors could, in her gentle heart, quite
fill the place of her own kindred.
And so, one warm spring evening, as
she stood looking out across the bay, the
rich red sunset pouring its flood of glory
over the waters and upon the hill, Priscilla
said to John Alden, “ You are all brave men,
‘so brave and strong. . And I, too, mean to be
brave; but sometimes I can not keep back the
loncines auiaue nll my neato tohmcce) Olde
England once again. I know how kind you
all have been to me since I have been
alone; own brothers and sisters could not
oak STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. —
have been more kind. I know, too, how
good and how earnest of purpose are these
men and women around me. I know this
new home is fair. I know how grateful we
should be for this land that has received
us into liberty and freedom; but still, when
I awake in the morning, or when I lie at
night and think, there come to me dear
pictures of the old home; and I think how
soft the air must be, and how, just at
this time in the year, the hedges are filled
with blossoms and the sweet grass is spring-
ing everywhere.â€
“Poor child! poor child!†thought good
John Alden; and his eyes grew very kindly
in their light as he too looked off across
them waters ii) only Ie miohte male: a
home for her and offer her its love and
shelter!â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 55
And by and by there came a time when
John Alden did offer Priscilla his home:
and with it, best of all, his own true
heart —the truest heart, so Priscilla thought,
that beat in all that little colony; and she
forgot her loneliness and her dreams o.
dear old England —so happy and busy did
she come to be in this new home John
Alden had made for her.
Then by and by this little girl baby came
to grace the happy home. Never had there
been so wonderful a baby in all the world
before,—so its mother and father thought.
Of course, the neighbors from all the
country round about came to see it, and
many were the presents made to it in those
first few days, before it could keep its sleepy
little eyes open long enough for one to tell
their color. But they were beautiful eyes —
56 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
of that its mother was very sure,—and for a
time little Peregrine was quite forgotten in
the new excitement.
Indeed his nose was sadly Oub Or
joint,†had he but known it. But since he
did not know it, he was quite as happy as
ever, and trudged about upon the hillside or
played upon the shore, never once dreaming
that anything had happened to take from
his own little glory.
And when one day he was taken to
see the new baby, he was as pleased as
any one in the colony; and began to plan
even then, for all we know, the happy hours
they some time should have together down
upon the shining sands beside the waters.
Betty was a good baby —that is what
the mothers in the settlement all said of
her; and when, as the years passed on and
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. - 57
she grew older, and little brothers and
sisters came, the mothers still said, « Betty
is a good child.â€
“JT should hardly know what to do
without Betty,†Priscilla would say. For she
was a kind, helpful, little body, always
watching to save her mother steps, and
to relieve her of the care of the little brothers
and sisters.
“The little mother,’ John Alden used to
call her, taking her upon his knee when at
night she had tucked the little ones snugly
away in their beds, and the work was all
done for the day. For Priscilla and John, I
am glad to say, were not so rigid in the
training of their children as many of the
colonial parents were apt to be; and so did
not count it wrong to show their love for
the little Betty.
58 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Indeed, some of the colonists quite dis-
approved of the lax manner in which the
little Aldens were brought up.
“Betty Alden is a romp,†they would
say when they saw her at play with the
children, running races, and playing ball, her
round little face flushed and red, her hair
flying, and her happy eyes sparkling with
health and happiness.
And by and by another little girl baby
was born in the colony. Lora Standish she
was called; and as these two grew from
babies into little girls they became the
closest of friends.
But very unlike were these two chil-
dren; for Lora was a very quiet, thoughtful,
little girl, tall, and slight, and pale, like a
pure white lily. And she had long, rich,
golden hair, and large blue eyes — the largest,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 59
bluest, most beautiful eyes that ever were,
so little Wrestling Brewster used to think —
but there was a sad, far off look in them
that made Lora’s father and mother grieve
to look upon them.
Then, too, Lora was very quiet — never
caring to run and play; but content. rather
to sit quietly and watch the other children
at their play ; or better still, she liked to
sit by her mother’s side and knit and sew.
svitcl inte AS Siullll te) Joe Seon yin IPilercen
Hall, Plymouth, the very sampler that this
child, more than two hundred years ago,
wrought stitch by stich, sitting, as she loved
to do, in the doorway of her little home, and
looking out across the waters, and up at the
white clouds floating by.
There were people in the colony, who,
as these two children passed along the
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 61
roadside together— Lora always quiet and
demure and Betty usually hopping and skip-
ping, her little tongue chattering like a magpie,
her sun-bonnet oftener swinging in her
hand than resting upon her head — there
were people who would sigh and say,—
“Tt would be well if Betty Alden could
learn the quiet manners of Lora Standish.â€
But Lora’s mother was wiser than
those neighbors who would have had all
children so quiet and demure. “It is not
natural that a child should never romp and
run,†she would say to Priscilla, as they
watched the two children together.
5 Then the tears would come to Priscilla’s
eves, and she would say, “Do not grieve
dear Barbara; I am sure Lora will grow
strong and well by and by.â€
“Mother, is Lora going to die?†Betty
62 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
would often ask. “She talks so often of
it—as if she were sure she will not live
long here among us.â€
“Be gentle with ora, Betty, | Priscilla
would answer; “it may be she is not quite.
strong and well.â€
Then the tears would come into Betty’s
great, warm eyes, and her strong, generous
heart would long to heip her gentle play-
mate over all the hard places; for a warmer-
hearted little girl never lived than Betty
Alden.
The years passed on; and these two
little girls had grown to be big girls, who
“wore their dresses long, and placed the
little white kerchief demurely around their
necks, crossing it carefully and fastening it
in the buckle at their waists.
Closer and closer had grown the friend-
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 63
ship between them; more and more had
Lora learned to lean upon brave, staunch-
hearted Betty; more and more had Betty
grown in gentleness and tenderness towards
Lora. But now atime had come when Lora
went no more out into the sunny fields
she had loved so well. All day long she lay
upon her little white couch, looking out, as
she had done all her life, upon the sparkling
waters, and up into the mystery of the deep
blue sky.
Each morning Betty came, laden with
the sweet wild flowers that Lora had loved
so well to gather.
“You help me to be brave, Betty,â€
Lora. had whispered, one morning as Betty
came in, her arms full of the beautiful
pink Rose of Plymouth,—her own bright
face no less pink and no less beautiful.
64 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“And you help me to be good, dear
Lora,’ answered Betty, with a great sob,
as she knelt beside the little couch.
Then, at last, there came a day when
the: house of Myles Standish was filled
with people. There were tears in their
eyes, and there was a strange hush in
the soft, warm air. Upon the little couch
Lora still lay, robed in a white samite,
brought from over the sea; and over her
breast lay the long curls of golden’ hair.
But the little hands were folded; the
great blue eyes that Wrestling Brewster
had so loved were closed; the little face
was very still; nor did it move when Betty’s
(cars GLOpped stu waipOne nh emton = eons
beautiful spirit had left the little body, and
the whole colony mourned for the girl,
whose life had been so sweet and gentle.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 65
“She was like a pure, white lily,†the
people said; and when that evening Betty
opened her little Bible and knelt alone by
her own bedside, she read of the lilies of
the field —for to her they were like her
lost playmate, Lora Standish,
COLONIAL CRADLE,
66 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
OTHER COLONIES.
The Pilgrims, brave as they were, were
glad indeed when this first winter was over.
“Tt will never be so hard to bear again,â€
they said, looking sadly at the burial ground
upon the hill, where, already, half their little
band lay beneath the snow.
And it never was so hard again. For,
before the next winter had come, they had
planted their little farms and had gathered
a rich harvest. They had built more com-
fortable houses; they had bought from the
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 67
Indians, and had sent to England, many
valuable furs; their barns and store-houses
were full; the Indians had shown no wish
to harm them. “Indeed we are now very
comfortable.†So they wrote to their friends
in England. ;
By and by, one day, the Mayflower,
which had been sent back to England for
supplies, was seen again entering the harbor.
“Mistress White! Mistress White!†cried
a neighbor rushing into her little house,
“An English vessel is entering the harbor!
An English vessel is coming!†The quick
light came into Mistress White’s eyes. Her
heart beat fast. Sometimes she had been
very lonely since fPeregrine’s father had
died; and brave as she was, she could not,
SOMmetiMes,. DUbeicclutlal ath ethey shad snot
come to this strange country, so bare and
68 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
so. cold, Goodman White need not have
died.
It was because of this, perhaps, that
Mistress White’s heart beat so quickly. An
English vessel—English faces! “It almost |
seems wrong,’ this good woman whispered
to herself; “but I long to see them. Just
from England! How much they can tell
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 69
us of our old friends. Perhaps they will
know of our people we left in Holland — of
our good minister Elder Robinson — of —â€
but by this time Peregrine was wrapped
closely in his shawls, and away the mother
hurried down to the water to watch the
incoming vessel.
The whole village was at the shore,
at least so Peregrine thought.
“It is an English ship! It brings more
colonists! It is coming into our harbor!â€
cried the excited people. And indeed it was
trates
What a welcome these new colonists’
received. Happy though the Pilgrims were
in their new home, it was, nevertheless, a
delight to them to see an English face
again —one just come from their old home
across the sea.
70 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“But they were angry with their old
home,†you say? Yes, that is true, England
tad sbeen very cruel to them | StllPitiwas
good to see an old friend and an old neighbor
once again.
What wonderful stories they had to
tell each other; what a world of questions
they had to ask! And Oceanus, who was
born on the sea, and Peregrine, who wa3
Dori = jst tere sin ie baron = ancdeall
the other new babies that had been born
in the colony!—not one was forgotten, for
all there were such worlds of news to be
told of all that had happened in England
and all that had happened in the colony.
From time to time, new vessels came
from England; and more colonists came; until,
in a few years, there were many villages
scattered here and there along the coast.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 71
All these little colonies were friendly with
one another; and they banded together in
Alle pUDlic: ameter, callimes sthemselves. tlc
Plymouth Colony.
Meeting-houses were built, ministers |
traveled from village to village and from
farm-house to farm-house, the children went
to school, and in’ every way the Puritans
were fast growing away from that picture
we first had of them,—a mere handful of
people, living in little rough, cabin-like houses,
on the edge of the forests on the Plymouth
Bay.
72 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
MASSACHUSETTS BAY COLONY.
It was in 1629 and 1630 that a large
number of people from England came to the
New World and founded a colony, which
came to be known as the Massachusetts
Bay Colony.
There were hundreds of men and women
in this colony, and such hosts of little boys
and girls. The Pilgrim children may have
been lonesome sometimes; but certainly in
this Massachusetts Bay colony they were
not —there were so many of them.
These colonists came first to Salem;
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 73
and then, dividing into little villages, settled
in what is now Boston, Charlestown, Dorches-
ter, Watertown and other places. They were
FAREWELL TO ENGLAND,
a different class of people from the Pilgrims,-—
these later colonists. They were, most of
them, people of wealth, or at least, they were
“well-to-do;†and so had not the bitter suf
ferings to bear that the plucky little band
of Pilgrims had borne. Their first Governor,
74 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
John Winthrop, settled in Boston; and so
Boston came naturally to be the important
plantation, as they called these early set-—
tlements. Winthrop was a good man; one
of the noblest and bravest in all the colony.
He was a man of learning; and it was
through him that Harvard College came
to be founded so early in the history of
Massachusetts.
Gov. Winthrop had a sister in England
of whom he was very fond. “If only you
were here with me, Lucy, in this beautiful
new country, I should be content,†he often
wrote.
And the good sister longed to come.
“But,†she would write, “here are my
two sons growing up. If there were only
some place of learning for youths it would
make me go far nimbler to your new
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 75
home; and, indeed, I believe a college would
put no little life into the colony.â€
“My sister Lucy is right,†Gov. Winthrop
Sail WO iniansebi, Amd ao @mee Ine See. oO
work to raise funds for the building of
2 Colles, “SN imam God to mney mony
go to my _ brother,†said Lucy Downing
quietly; and in due time she came, bringing
her two little boys with her. One of these
boys, you will be glad to know, was one of
the first class of graduates from this college,
for which his mother and Gov. Winthrop
had plead so wisely.
ME SCHOOL.
N OLD TI
&
~1
=
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
COLONIAL SCHOOLS.
And speaking of Harvard College reminds
us of the schools of these early times.
From the very beginning there were
schools; for the Pilgrims and the later
colonists loved learning and were determined
their children should not grow up unlettered
as they called it. 3
The very first schools the baby Peregrine
attended, as soon as he was old enough
to walk and talk, were held in the cabins.
The good women who taught the children,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 79
being like all these brave foremothers,
thrifty, timesaving women, often went on
with their housework while the children did
their sums or recited their lessons. There
were so few pupils, and so little to be
learned, why shouldn’t they? Certainly they
saw no reason why they should not, so
long as one eye was kept on the mischievous
little ones at work.
But, by and by, as the colonies grew
larger, teachers were hired by the people,
little school-houses were built, and the children
gathered together a few months in the year
to get a schooling. Sometimes the teacher
was a woman-—especially in the summer
time, when the big boys were at work in
the fields, and only the girls and the little
boys could attend.
To these schools the girls carried their
80 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
work-boxes and learned to sew, while the
boys did hard sums in the big arithmetic.
There was no need for girls to learn very
miuchies these. early. people thought 9%
little reading and writing, and a great deal
of spinning and sewing, was what was _ best
for them.
And as the teacher herself did not
know very much, she, of course, could teach
the boys only while they were quite small. —
Their letters, their songs and their verses,
they learned from an odd _ little book, called
“The New England Primer.†It was illustra-
ted with small woodcuts, one for every letter
of the alphabet, These were placed up and
down the pages, each with its couplet at the
right. All the children in all the colonies
used the same book. Here are some of
the pages from which they learned their letters :
NEW-ENGLAND PRIMER,
ry en ru een ett orn rater nie
In Adam’s fall,
We sinned all,
Heaven to. find,
The Bible mind.
The. Cat doth play,
And after ‘slay,
The Dog will bite
A thicf at night.
An Eagle’s flight.
Ts out of -sight.
The idle Fool
Is\ whipt at school,
NEW-ENGLAND PRIMER.
Time cuts down all,
Both great and small.
Uriah’s beauteous wife
Made David seek his life,
Whales in the sea,
Gad’s voice obey.
Xerces the great did die,
And so must you and].
Youth forward slips—
Death soonest nips.
Zac-che-us, he
Did climb the tree,
Our Lord to seé.
AG
—
in the b
x ‘an Oak tree in Boscobel wood, wheré he saw hid
Seana Sacue of him. This Oak tree was regarded, by the
Srionds of the King, with much veneration, after bavang afforded,
shelter ta.ths Royal Fugitive. R
82 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
The teachers in these days believed in
punishing children when they did wrong.
One teacher, Mistress Tileston, who taught
in Boston long, long ago, would go up and
down the aisles in her little school-room,
tapping sharply the heads of idle boys
with a rough steel thimble which she always
wore.
Mrs. Diaz, who has written much about
her own early school days (and the schools,
even as late as fifty years ago, had not
changed very much) says: “ Mistress Leonard
had “a faculty for contriving punishments.
For example, when little Sethy Cushing
tied his scarf around a kitten and hung
it on the clothes-line, she tied the scarf
on little Sethy Cushing, and hung him on
the crane in her great kitchen fireplace,
which was not at that time in use.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 83
_ Scholars who told lies had mustard put
on their tongues. When a little girl stole a
vial of boxberry cordial from one of the other
children, Mistress Leonard held that little girl’s
fingers over the red hot coals. ew - a
“This teacher had other
ways, too, of helping us to
avoid evil and turn to the good.
“She had always a little « ruse od
thin oval locket marked, ‘Best Scholar,’
which she allowed us to wear when we earned
it. Shealso had bows of ribbon, blue, red, and
pink — and black! All good children went
home with the bright colored bows pinned upon
their shoulders. The child that had behaved
very bad, wore home the black bow.
“T must not forget our Catachism — or
Catechise as Mistress Leonard called it.
‘Stand up and say your Catechise!’ was
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 85
Mistress Leonard’s first order in the morning.
At that we all stood in a straight line, our
toes exactly on a crack in the floor.
“The questions were put in a_ high-
pitched voice, very fast, and we were expected
to answer equally fast.
“The ‘Catechise’ contained one hundred
and seven questions, their answers, the Lord’s ©
Prayer, the ‘Ten Commandments, and the
Creat, Some Of Une sclnoleves Ikinewy wie
book through, and the ‘ Primer’ besides.
Once in a great while the “committee
’
men†would visit the school. When they
did} it was ascreat day. [ithe = lresident
of the United States and all the Governors
Should enter your school-room, you would
not be as awe struck as were these little
school boys and girls of so long ago.
The committee men always heard the
86 2 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
children read. They looked over the writing
books, frowning severely at the blots if
there were any; then taking the spelling
book in their hands, they heard the children
spell. The bigger: the words they could
spell, the better scholars were they supposed
to be.
“Ahem, ahem!†the committee man
would say, straightening up very tall and
looking very wise, “spell intercolonial.â€
“In in, ter ter inter, col col intercol,
On on intercolon, 1 1 intercoloni, al al’ in-
tercolonial,†the pupil would answer in a
very shrill, high pitched voice. For this is
the way children were taught to spell, and
to pronounce their syllables in “ye olden
tyme.â€
“ Ahem, very good,†the committee would
say in a patronizing tone.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 87
On the very last page of the spelling
book were columns of hard words -— words
with silent letters. Happy was the child
that should spell that page for the com-
mittee man. Such a child’s standard of
scholarship was settled forever.
“Can you spell phthisic?†the committee
man always asked when the school had
been “spelled down†on all common words.
“ Ph-th-is-ic,†some child would answer,
jerking the letters to keep the rhythm.
And Mississippi ?
“Mis-sis-Sip-pi,’†was the answer in the
same jerky tone. |
If the children stood fire on spelling,
and then could tell how much a herring
and a half at a cent and a half apiece
would cost, that school was believed to be
a success; and in the town reports, that
88 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
teacher was said to have “kept a good
school.â€
| |
Hu i
Hilal
a i
hs
HL
EW -
INF \I'
in| \'| CN Li FY fl ‘ce
But the men teachers. It would never
do to pass them by.
I wonder if you have ever heard that
old hymn called “ Federal Street?†You will
find it in the church hymn books; and a
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 89
grand old hymn it is. This was written
long, long ago by one of Boston’s old citizens,
Gen. H. K. Oliver. This man, too, once gave
an address on “Early Boston Schools,†in
which he says: Master Haystop kept school
on the corner of Franklin and Washington
SUlcets:
“The building was a very old one —
one of the early colonial buildings. The
walls cc time-stained; the door was old;
the staircase was old; and it led up to an
old room on the second floor, where we
were taught by a teacher that was also very
old.
“His dress was very odd. He wore a
tabby velvet coat, the tails of which stood
sometimes straight out. Inside the coat
was a waistcoat of tremendous length, through
which showed conspicuously the nicely
90 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
starched ruffles of his fine white shirt. His
knee breeches of velvet, like his coat, were
finished at the knee by large and shining
silver buckles; with these, in lustre, vied
two more silver buckles which rested upon
the tops of his clumsy shoes.
“Around his neck was wound, just once
and a half, a stiff iron stock, which helped
to keep his head stiff and straight, as
became a teacher in his day. But above
all, his crowning glory, was the wig—the
white powdered wig, combed straight back
from his forehead, and hanging always in
a nicely braided queue behind.â€
Now, to be sure, these schools that Mrs.
Diaz and Gen Oliver have told you of
were schools of this present century; still
you must remember that they were exactly
like those of the very early colonial times.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 91
Had Peregrine written the story of his own
school days away back — 1625 ~1635, there
would probably have been very little difference
between those and these you have just read
about; for until the present century this
country grew very slowly, and old customs
remained very little changed.
HAND MADE SPADE OF THE COLONISTS.
92 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
COLONIAL CHILDREN’S SABBATH.
The first minister in the little Plymouth
Colony was William Brewster. He had
come over in the Mayflower with the colonists,
and he watched over and cared for them
as long as he lived. “Good Elder Brewster,â€
the colonists would say, as the kind man
went from house to house during those
first hard months when so many of his little
flock sickened and died.
For some time the meetings were held
in the little cabins, or in the fort on the
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 93
hill; but by and by a little meeting house
was built, and it was to this the Pilgrims
made their way every Sabbath, no matter
how hot or how cold or how stormy the
weather might be. For these early settlers,
both of the Plymouth and of the Massachu-
setts colonies, were very religious people;
and staying home from meeting because of
weather was not to be thought of.
If I tell you about the meeting-house
that Peregrine was carried to when he was
a mere baby, and in which he and little
Desire Minturn and Humility Cooper and
Remember Allerton and Love Brewster grew
to be young men and women, 1t | will be
like telling you of all the meeting-houses in
all the colonies; for they were for many
years all alike.
In the first place, the Sabbath began at
94 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
sunset of Saturday afternoon. “Let us
spend our evening getting ourselves ready
for the Sabbath;’ the people would say. So
at that time all work was stopped, the chil:
dren’s play was hushed, the Sabbath had
begun.
In the morning the people were up
bright and early—long Sunday morning
naps were not the fashion then—the little
work that it was necessary to do was done as
quietly and quickly as possible, and the family
made themselves ready for meeting.
There were no bells on these little
churches; but they were not needed. The
settlements were small; and it answered
quite as well for a man to stand upon
the church steps and beat his drum for the
call to prayer. In the quiet Sabbath hush
of these half forest homes, the drum beat
A
ites vite,
x iN Ny 4
\\ é
CALLING TO CHURCH.
rang out upon the air clear and full; and
the people, already dressed and waiting, had
96 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
only to take their Bibles and their muskets
(these last lest Indians should steal in upon
them) and go to the meeting-house. There
was no hurry, no rush, no crowding, no
talking together. The men and women took
their places, the children were put all together
on one side of the church, and the services
began.
First, the good Elder rose and gave out
a hymn. A few people had hymn books;
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 97
but since there were only a few of them, the
Elder read one line of the hymn, the people
sang it to some old well-known tune, then
the Elder read another line. This, too, the
HOUR-GLASS,
people sang, and in this way the whole
hymn was learned and sung. Then followed
a long, long prayer, then another hymn, then
the sermon.
And such a sermon! Three, four hours
in length! These people would have been
98 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
shocked at the short half-hour sermons we
have nowadays. Three and four hours
were none too long for them.
But perhaps you are thinking of those
children we have left seated together at one
side of the church. Perhaps you are thinking.
what a fine time they must be having
there all by themselves, with no mothers to
keep them from whispering or peeping over
into the pews behind them.
But alas for these children! There was
one officer in this church I have not yet
told you of. He was the “tithing-man.â€
That is, he was a man who stood behind
the people and watched to see that none of
the children played. In his hand he carried
a long pole. On one end of it was a little
deer or squirrel tail; on the other was a
hard knob. If he spied a woman nid, nid,
_ STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 99
nodding, he would step down the aisle and
tickle the sleeper’s face with the fur-end
of the pole;. but if he spied a child laughing
Pree
Zz
i
\ = eh
gare
$e
He B
#
THE TITHING MAN.
or at play, he whisked around the fur-end
of the pole, hurried down the aisle, and before
the child had dreamed that the tithing-man
was coming, tap, tap, tap, came the knob-end
100 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
down on the little child’s head, and not
very gently either.
No child cared to feel that knob-end
many times; it was pretty sure to start
out the tears, and sometimes it left a hard
headache. So you see the children did not
have so very good a time sitting all by
themselves as you may have supposed.
Another duty of the tithing-man was
to watch the hour-glass that stood on the
‘preacher's desk. Clocks were rare these
days, and hourglasses were used in their
stead. Very closely did the tithing-man watch
the sand in the glass. As soon as it was
out, over the glass was turned, that it might
fill again.
On and on the Elder preached, watching
the hour-glass, timing his sermon, not accord-
ing to how much in his very heart he
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 101
had to say to his people, but accordiag to
a certain length of time which he was
expected to preach.
When, at last, the long sermon was
over, the people, stiff and cold and tired,
gathered up their foot-stoves—for there
were no fires in the meeting-houses,— and
very solemnly made their way homeward, to
spend the remainder of the day in prayer
and the quiet reading of such books as had
to do with religious subjects. At sunset,
however, again the restraint was off; and
the little children were free to enjoy them-
selves in their own natural, innocent way
again.
Perhaps, for the fun of it, you will
enjoy these records from the report book
of an old judge who lived in these colonial
times. In one book, in which ke has
102, STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
-recorded the minor cases he tried as Justice of
the Peace, he says: ‘His Majesty’s Tithing-
man entered complaint against Jona, and
Susan omith, that) on the Lords Day,
during Divine Service, they did smile. They
were found guilty, and each was fined five
shillings and costs.
But it was usually the “small boyâ€
whose behavior in the meeting-house provoked
the Puritan Elders to groan in chorus,
“Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child.â€
“The boy was seated with other boys,
instead of with his father and mother in
a family pew. They were herded together
on the pulpit and gallery stairs, and tithing.
men and constables were appointed to watch
over them, ‘and see that they behave
themselves comelie, and use such raps and
blows as meet.’
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN, 103
In one parish, it was ordered in town
meeting “that there be some sticks set up
in various places in the meeting-house, and
that fit persons be chosen to use them.â€
It is feared, too, that the Colonial boy
sometimes was so bad as to whittle during
these long church services; for in the old
records of Medford town, it says, “We of
Medford do pass an order that all boys
who cut the seats in the meeting-house shall
be prosecuted.â€
104 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
INDIAN TROUBLES.
As long as Massasoit lived the colonists
had no trouble with the Indians; for he was
a powerful chief, and although many of the
neighboring tribes hated the white men and
longed to attack them, they dared not so
long as Massasoit was their friend and
protector.
But the time came when Massasoit
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 105
died. A sad, sad day was this for the men
and women and children when this brave-
hearted chief was taken from them; for now
the neighboring tribes burst upon them, and
not for years and years, not until the country
had become settled, up and down the coast
and far inland, were these Indians completely
conquered.
The Indians proved to be cruel foes:
suspicious, and forever on the watch for an
Opportunity to shoot down a colonist where-
ever or whenever he might be found. The |
Indians never came out in open battle —
that was not their way; but in the night
time, or when the’ men were away at their
work in the fields, they would swoop down
upon a house or a village with their horrid
whoops and yells, destroying the houses and
killing even the little innocent children.
106 ¥ STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
No colonist thought of going even to
the little meeting-house of his village with-
out his gun; for how could he know but in
the midst of the sermon the Indian whoop
might be heard outside. ;
The Indians did make such an attack
at one time on the village of Swanzey.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 107
Knowing that on the Sabbath the colonists
would be together in the meeting-house,
they planned to swoop down upon them
eetesue AV eatcan) mlcillecheninmellieat Once,
said the Chief; “It will be far easier than
killing them one by one in their houses.â€
The colonists little knew what was going
on outside their church while they listened
to the long sermon. Slowly and softly the
Indians were creeping in through the forests,
close to the village. Hiding themselves
behind the trees, they waited. The colonists
came out ‘into the clear morning air little
dreaming what was to come. One instant,
and the air rings with the whoop and yell
of hundreds of savage foes! Another, and
out bursts the tribe, armed with guns and
clubs and tomahawks! A terrible massacre
followed, in which the little village was
108 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
destroyed, and the few colonists that escaped
fled in terror through the forests for protec-
LION) strom thes cntel toe | hisuuwas athe
opening of what is known in our history
as King Philip’s War.
King Philip was the Indian chief. “Do
yOu Mor Sac, SzilGl Ine mO ImiS peoaie, “une
these white men are growing every year
more and more powerful? Do you not see
how their numbers increase? Once there
was only a little settlement of them on
Plymouth Bay. Now there are hundreds
of settlements and thousands of families.
Every year we are being pushed farther and
farther back from the coast. Some day
they will take our hunting grounds from _ us.
Besides this, they have wronged us; they have
killed our braves. Let us band together —’
all our tribes—and make war upon them.â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 109
It was a terrible war that followed; for
Philip was a powerful chief, and the tribes
were ready always to follow where he led.
For years the colonists lived in constant
terror. Children were stolen, women were
seized and carried away into slavery, men
were shot down at their work by their
unseen foe, lurking behind the trees. These
were terrible days to the colonists. At last
King Philip fell in battle. “Now,†thought
the white men, “there is some hope for us.
With the: leader taken from them, the
Indians will lose courage.â€
But there was Annawon!—King Philip’s
Strongest ally—-Annawon, whose voice in
battle could be heard above all the noise,
which
ment in the Indian language, “On! on to
battle! Stand to it! Stand to le
thundering out “ Lou-task! I-ou-task!â€
110 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
) Miere 1 little hope for us2 said Cap.
tain Church, “even with King Philip dead,
until we can capture Annawon. His battle
cry is to his men like fuel to a fire. He
urges them on to battle even as did Philip
himself.â€
“Annawon has made his camp in a
swamp near by,†said a scout, coming to
Captain Church.
“We must find it,†answered the brave
captain quickly. “And we must take An-
mnawon prisoner there in his very camp.â€
“ Impossible!†3
“But it must be done.†And with
these few words the sturdy captain set forth
with a little band of foliowers, each one as
brave as himself. :
Softly, softly they crept across the hills,
hiding in the grasses and behind the trees,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 111
listening, hardly drawing breath lest an
Indian scout discover them.
At last, reaching the top of a steep hill,
they saw the camp in a deep hollow at
their feet. And see! there before the door
of his tent lay Annawon himself — asleep.
“Now is our time!†whispered Captain
Church. Softly, softly again they crept on,
——into the camp—close, close to the tent.
Half awake, Annawon slowly opened his eyes.
But in an instant Captain Church sprang
upon him, and Annawon was a prisoner.
“Go at once,†said Captain Church to
his men, “to the Indians lying about their
camp-fires. Tell them their chief is captured,
and that hundreds of white men stand out-
side the camp waiting to kill them all unless
they will surrender. If they will surrender
their lives shall be spared.â€
112 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
The men hurried away. “I am very
tired,†said Captain Church, coolly. “I will
sleep.†And, lying- down beside Annawon,
and throwing one foot over him that he
might wake if Annawon moved, the brave
captain did sleep two long hours.
Strange hours those must have been
for Annawon. At last the captain awoke.
Then Annawon arose, and, shaking hinuself
like a great Newfoundland, with an “ugh!â€
he marched off into the forest.
“He has surrendered his arms,†thought
Church to himself; “I wonder what he will
do.†In a few moments Annawon returned.
“This is war belt,’ said he, laying at
Church's feet the belt King Philip had worn
in battle. “You great captain. You kill
Philip — you capture Annawon —the war
now ended — belt belong to you.â€
: STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 113
LADY YEARDLEY’S VISITOR.
Once in a great while, however, there
would be an Indian so different from his
tribe that one could hardly believe he was
an Indian.
114 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
There is a story told of one colonial
woman,— Lady Yeardley she was called —
who, one Christmas eve, while she sat alone
with her children, saw suddenly at the
window frame an Indian’s face.
For an instant her very heart stopped
beating. An Indian at the window! She
alone with her children! Her husband away!
The children clung to her in terror.
“I must not seem afraid,’ she thought.
“If this red man has come to kill us this
door will be no protection; I will open it
iOlces,
Quickly the bar was pushed back and
the door thrown wide open. “Welcome,
CUE Sue SAGES Ne game cadle lS) sais Christmas eve.
Of all times in the year, it is the time when
one should willingly offer food and shelter
to a wanderer.â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 115
“JT come from the great Three Rivers,â€
answered the Indian quietly. “I am chief
of the Roanoke.â€
And as he spoke, he entered the house,
marched himself to the roaring fire-place, and
stretched out his hands to warm himself.
He seemed kindly disposed; but no
Indian in these days could be quite trusted.
When he had warmed himself, he turned
from’ the fire, lifted from his shoulders a
great roll of furs, placed it upon the floor —
not a word had he spoken yet—and slowly
began to unroll.
“Papoose,†said he, seeming to notice
that his host looked in wonder at him.
And as he spoke out stepped from the
roll of fur a little Indian boy. Such a sober
little face! “Me bring him a moon of day,’
said the father ;—by which he meant that he
116 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
had come a whole month’s journey with the
child.
Lady Yeardley’s children, curious to see
the little Indian boy, crept out from their
hiding places to look at him. He winked
ice little abide "eyes ay tienne bute sare
nothing.
“Me want him to be like them,†said
the father, pointing to the white children.
“Like my children?â€
“Yes; me want him to learn of the
speaking paper,†he added;—by which he
meant that he wished the child to be taught
to read. “You wish me to teach him to read?â€
asked Lady Yeardley.
“Yes; and to break the sod -with the
plough, Me want him to be kind to
papoose and squaw. Me want him to pray
to the white man’s God.â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. BIN
iicats “came to yethe “kind ladys eyes
“Me want him to be like them,†the chie
repeated.
PENG! Ine Sineallll Joe,†answered Lady
Yeardley, putting her hand upon the little
child’s head. “I promise you it shall be.
And now let us have our supper. Let us
eat of our Christmas pudding and drink of
Oli Climicrmass pect Ce illdren, abe kind site
Oia iGulceeitc ota Ctictmn ce mruNCMa IsmmtIne
night the little Christ-child came on earth;
and he taught us, you know, to love each
other and to be kind to each other.â€
Morning came. The sun rose bright
am@l Clear, ‘Ine Clue loell! rane ote ilies
Christmas welcome, and Lady Yeardley and
her children made themselves ready for
church. It was a strange sight, when she
reached the meeting-house, entered, and
118 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
walked with her strange guests down the
aisle to her seat.
ie winens in the church ssprany. up.
Iey seed ainsi gms, “Ome waitin Une
savage!†they cried. “He is a spy! a spy!â€
“Stop!†commanded Lady Yeardley.
le ais liye SUS eg No sc licliaslrelaineay olny
courtesy towards him. Listen, and let me
tell you what this means.â€
mien thew ladvastoldeethex stone = ie
men listened; but they only half believed
in the honor of the red man after all.
“He will do us no harm,†answered
Pacya) Veardleyesiitllyes l= pled cer yaunmsmy,
whole plantation that no harm shall come
to us through him. I believe in him. Can-
not you?â€
Then she opened the door of the quaint.
old pew that was hers, and led her two
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 119°
strange looking guests in. The men put
down their guns, and sat back in their seats.
It was a strange sight,—the Indian chief,
side by side, with the beautiful Lady Yeard-
ley in the little colonial church. But Lady
Yeardley had no fear; she knew the hearts
of her guests. “ Poor little Papoose!†she
thought; “poor little Papoose!â€
A
dif dh
fl yl
phir
il.
SORN CRUSHER AND CHAIR, FROM MILES STANDISH HOUSE.
aera
Eines
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 121
ESCAPE Of MRS, DUSTIN.
THE BOY CAPTIVE.
I wish I could tell you that all Indian
stories had as happy endings as this of Lady
Yeardley. But alas, alas! it was very rarely
that anything but suffering and _ torture
followed an Indian’s visit among the colonists.
I could tell you pages upon pages of their
terrible deeds and of the sufferings of the
white people; of the scalping of whole
122 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
families ; of the burning alive of little babies ;
of the separation of mothers from their
children and of the brutal treatment of the
captives by the Indians.
' But perhaps a few here and there will be
enough; for you who like Indian stories can
read them from so many other books. Just a
few, then, and we will leave the Indians and
talk of the great war of the Revolution.
In the little village of Haverhill lived the
Dustin family. One day, as Mrs. Dustin sat
in her home, her little week-old baby in her
arms, there burst out upon the air the dreaded
Indian yell. With a cry of terror, Mrs. Dustin
Some Wo mer ice. “Wine achems | ove
Indians!†cried the nurse, pale with fright.
Hardly had they time to speak, when in
upon them rushed the war-painted red men.
With whoops and howls, they tore the baby
- STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 123
from its mother’s arms; and, seizing the two
women, hurried them out of the house, where
other Indians seized them to hurry them off
into captivity.
“Can that be smoke?†cried Mr. Dustin,
chancing to look up towards the house from
the field where he was at work. Just then an
Indian whoop rang out upon the air. The
poor man’s heart stood still. “God help me!â€
cried-he. “It is the Indian whoop! Have
they attacked my family? Are they burning
my house? O, my wife! My children!â€
Stricken with terror the poor man hurried
across the fields and up the hill. Already
the savages were upon him! “To the gar-
miso) Io le pantie†me enlec. — Jeule
already the Indians had seized upon Mrs.
Dustin, the little baby and the nurse and had
dragged them away. Mr. Dustin could only
04a STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
try now to save the other children. “Run!
TUM ene mOnICa LON Nein am JNcueLOme memo
rison house!â€
The Indians pursued. - Seizing the
youngest child in his arms Mr. Dustin tried
to hurry the poor frightened children on.
But the savages were swift of foot, and were
soon upon them. “Run, run,†he whispered
hoarsely; and then turning upon the pursuers
he fired shot after shot, thus beating the
savages back while he urged the children on
towards the garrison house.
COSI ey au Miia eel cnenyuNemeric dh mauve
are almost there!†Then bang, bang went a
gun! Another and then another! It was
help from the garrison! Half dead with
fright the children were dragged into safety
within the palisades. Exhausted, the brave
father staggered after them; the gateway
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 125
closed; and the Indians, defeated turned back
to the river, where, with their captives, other
Indians awaited them. Already Mrs. Dustin
with her baby and the nurse were far away
in the forest, and the little farm-house was
soon a mass of blackened ruins.
It was a terrible journey. The Indians
were cruel, and the poor sick woman was
hurried along through the forests, up the river
for miles and miles and miles. The little
baby the savages killed before her eyes; and
the poor mother staggered on, beaten and
threatened with death if she failed.
After many days of travel, the Indians at
last reached their camp on an island far up the
river. “We shall escape,†Mrs. Dustin would
say to her poor nurse, whose courage often
failed her. “We shall escape. We will escape.â€
In the camp was a little boy whom the
126 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Indians had taken captive many months
before. “My boy,†said Mrs. Dustin to the
lad, “do you not long to escape and make
your way back to your home?â€
The little fellow’s lip quivered. The
tears came into his eyes. “We will escape,â€
Mrs. Dustin went on to say, “and you shail
help. Listen. First of all you must learn to
_ kill with the tomahawk as these Indians do.â€
The boy shuddered. “Yes,†Mrs. Dustin
went on fiercely, “You must learn. Then we
must watch our chances to escape.†We shall
find a way.†_
The boy was a plucky little fellow. To
learn to kill with the tomahawk was a terrible
thing, but he would learn if he must.
The long, weary days passed slowly by.
Mrs. Dustin and her nurse worked like slaves
in their master’s tents, and the brave boy
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 127
watched with them for any chance of escape.
One day he crept into the tent and said to
Mrs. Dustin, “The Indians are planning
a pow-wow for to-night.â€
“Now is our time, then,’ answered Mrs.
Dustin, quickly. “ Be ready.â€
Night came on. The pow-wow — that is,
the Indian revel— began. By midnight every
Indian lay in a heavy sleep. Now all was
still. The three captives stole forth. Taking
the tomahawks, which the boy had learned
to use and had taught the two women to use,
they killed their captors, seized the great
‘birch canoe, and paddled as fast as their
strength would allow them.
_ Down, down the Merrimac they hurried
their little boat, hiding in the bushes by day
and paddling on at night.
At last, worn out with anxious watching,
128 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
half starved and sick, they reached one
morning the little town of Haverhill.
Fancy the surprise and the joy inthe lit-
tle village when these brave women appeared.
“O, my wife, my wife!†cried Mr. Dustin.
“We had given you up as dead.â€
Drums were beaten, guns were fired; the
whole village gave up its work, and all the
people crowded into the little meeting-house
to give thanks to God for the remarkable
deliverance of His people.
And the brave little boy that helped?
Yes, the Haverhill people remembered his
part in Mrs. Dustin’s escape. He was hon-
ored and cheéred and. had, you may be sure,
his part in the gala day. And then when this
was over, the grateful people helped him to
find his own dear home, from which, so many
long months before, he had been stolen.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 129
HOW JACK-O’-LANTERN FRIGHTENED
AWAY THE INDIANS.
But sometimes these cruel Indians were
outwitted; and many a home and many a
life was saved by the little boys and girls,
In a little log cabin, in a clearing, lived a
family in which there were two little girls,
Prudence and Endurance. The Indians had
often visited at their home, and the children’s
father and mother had always treated them
kindly. But the Indians were treacherous
sometimes, and could not always be trusted.
130 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. -
“Children; said= the tater one day,
“Your mother and I wish very much to go
to the village on business. You are young;
but do you not think you can keep house
alone until we come back? We will try
to come back before night; but if we can
not, do you think you are brave enough
little girls to take care of yourselves here
alone ?â€
“OQ yes! yes!†cried the children; “we
shall be very busy all day bringing in the
pumpkins from the field). Then at night
we will bar the doors and sleep fast till
morning.†|
The father and mother rode away; and
the two sisters, feeling very grand because
the house was in their care, set about their
work, Towards night, while Prudence was
busy piling the pumpkins into great rich,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN, 131
golden pyramids, she saw two Indians close
at hand. Quickly she hid behind the pumpkins.
They did not see her; but went on talking
together, pointing towards the house and
making very suspicious signs. -
“OQ Endurance! Endurance!†cried Pru-
dence, running to the house when the Indians
had gone away. “The Indians! The Indians!
They've found out father an’ mother are
gone away, an’ they’re comin’ here to steal, an’
praps kill us.â€
The frightened girls knew not what to do.
“Prudence,†said Endurance after a
lone epatice aa We ayers it mee VcdllagtiodnG thc
Jack-o-lanterns that were made from the
pumpkins. We'll scare the Indians away.
They will think they are spirits.â€
“QO Endurance!†was all the frightened
child could say.
132 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Quickly they decided what to do. Near
the back door was a pit, dug for storing
potatoes, and now covered with boards and
brush. Taking their jack-o-lanterns, they
scrambled into the pit and concealed the
entrance cleverly by drawing the boards
and brush into place.
After what seemed hours of waiting
and listening, the girls heard stealthy steps
about the house. They watched. The Indians
were creeping towards the cabin. A few
steps and they would pass the pit.
“Now,†whispered Endurance. And
instantly the jack-o-lanterns were lighted
and their horrible, grinning faces thrust up
through the brush.
The Indians saw them. For a second
they stood, dumb with fear. Then with a
whoop and a cry, they turned and fled.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 183
All night long the little girls lay hidden
_in the pit, but no Indians returned. When
morning came, the children rep Oui, Winer
lay the tomahawks that the Indians. in
mene vento Inacl Gheoyjoedl, eincl tlmcee eagle
feathers such as it was the fashion for
Indians to wear in their hair.
And never aiter could an Indian be
coaxed to come even near the cabin.
“Fire-spirits! Fire-spirits!†they would
say; “Indian ’fraid. Ugh! ugh! Fire-spirits!â€
134 ’ STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
TWO BRASS KETTLES.
- Until a few years ago, there stovd in
Dorchester an old Fort House— so it ‘was
called — which was built no less than two
hundred and fifty years ago. It was an oddly
built house of brick, and that encased in wood.
It was built this way as a protection from the
Indians; in those days there was need that it
should be.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 135
There was many a story and legend con.
nected with this old colonial house, but none
more interesting than the story of the two
great brass kettles that saved the children
from an Indian, away back in those early
times.
But how could two brass kettles save the
children? You would never Slless Out ib
came about in this way: In the kitchen was
a great casement window. It was half
covered over with grape vines and was the
pleasantest window in the whole house.
“ Flow pretty the light comes through the
leaves!†thought the trusty housemaid, Expe-
rience, who had been left at home this Sunday
afternoon with the children. “And the
orchards look—†But Experience started
back with a cry of terror. Her face paled, her
whole frame trembled so that she could hardly
136 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
stand. “An Indian!†she gasped. “O what
shall Ido? The children! The children!â€
In an instant a thought came to her.
There were two great brass kettles in the kitch-
en—such as they used to hang in the wide
open fire-places. They had been scrubbed and
polished only the day before, and there they
lay, bottom upward, in the middle of the floor.
“The children !— under the kettles!†she
whispered to herself; and before the children
could dream of what had happened, she had
seized them from their play had crowded them
under, and had clanged the great heavy kettles
down over them. “ Keep still,†she whispered,
“don’t make a sound.†Then she rushed to
the door, bolted it, and stood with the fire
shovel awaiting attack. Poor girl! Little
help would the fire shovel be if the Indian
burst in the door with his cruel tomahawk.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 13%
still it was a weapon, and she stood there,
brave girl that she was, ready to defend her
master’s children with her life, if need be.
“There is a gun up Stairs,†thought the
mel, il immwiss Imerys itll Ciopilciten toe equine,
she whispered as she fled past them up the
stairs. But the children, not understanding,
and not enjoying their sudden imprisonment,
Scum adrcnye Ouchiidinencnildrenliesopbed
the maid. Just then the Indian appeared at
the casement.
“Ugh!†grunted he, staring at the kettles.
“Ugh! ugh!†He had never seen anything
like them. “Him speak,†said he to himself,
looking at them puzzled and half frightened.
“Me shoot,†and lifting his gun, he aimed
straight at the larger kettle. Bang! clang!
went the shot, and the ring and echo of it
filled the air. The babies screamed lustily
138 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
and began to creep, kettles and all, across the
kitchen,
“Him alive! him move!†cried the Indian,
backing away from the window, his eyes star-
ing, his face one picture of fear. “Ugh! ugh!â€
and throwing down his gun, he turned and
fled. The maid aimed at him, arid away he
ran across the orchard out of sight.
It was not long before the family
returned. “What is it? What is it?†they
cried, as the maid ran to meet them.
Poor girl! she could hardly tell them her
story ; but there were the little prisoners, and
there was the Indian’s .gun outside the
- window.
“He may yet be on the premises,†said
Mr. Minot, seizing the gun and starting forth
in search.
The Indian was on the premises; but he
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 139
could do no further harm. They found his
dead body not far from the house, by the
brook, pierced through with a bullet —for the
maid’s aim had been truer than she had dared
to: hope.
The Indian was buried in the meadow
near by, and the brass kettles — well, they
were kept for years and years and years. The
babies grew up, grew old and died; their
children grew up, grew old and died — but the
brass kettles were kept, and never was there a
visitor to the house but the Indian story was
told and the kettles shown to him.
140 STORLES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
MERCY AND JOSH CARY.
But for all the country had grown so
prosperous, and for all there were towns and
villages and even many fine cities, life was
often very hard and full of danger, especially
on the outlying farms. There had been a war,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. Say
too, between the French nation and the Eng-
lish nation, and in this the colonies had shared
the suffering, if not’ the glory that came of
it; for the:French colonies had fought the
English colonies, and had hired the Indians to
help them. As we have already learned, the
Indians were a terrible foe; and whenever
they fought there’ was much useless misery
-and suffering. There are many sad stories.
told of these times—some with very bitter
endings; but here is one that ends well,-even
if it begins sadly; so I am sure you will be
glad enough to read it.
“l jp@ieve inere ame lindians alooâ€
said little Josh Cary. “Tig never acts that
way unless it is Indians.â€
“Nonsense! Josh,†answered his mother;
for she was busy with her spinning and
could not be bothered,
142 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Josh looked rueful; and when by and
by his mother bade his sister Mercy leave
her spinning and go over to the Wilsons to
borrow their brass kettle, he said to himself,
“There are Indians. Tig knows; and she
must not go alone.â€
It was in the time of the French and
Indian war; and up and down the forests
of Maine there were Indians lurking here
and there, ever on the watch to kidnap the
English and hurry them away into Canada;
for the French had promised gold to any
Indian who should capture. an English
settler and bring him alive into the provinces,
It was full three miles from the fort-
house —the valley the Cary and the Wilson
families had chosen for their home; but
neither family had felt in danger, so well
were they protected among themselves.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 143
“Hurry, Mercy,†said her mother; “and
there will be quite time enough before the
sun goes down.â€
Mercy, glad of the rest from spinning,
put on her broad straw hat, plaited by her
own hand, and hurried out with her brother
Josh. .
ANIL ine wany lier Ikejot Class al Wnevbr
Sider andi an eveny mlistic ofeune @leayese mle
would prick up his ears, growl, and show
his teeth.
“Tow strangly Tig acts!†said Mercy,
as she and Josh were crossing the brook,
the borrowed kettle swinging between them.
Josh made no answer; but he watched the
dog, his young heart beating wildly.
Hardly had Mercy spoken, when “ Ugh!
Wel and out sprang an Indian from the
thicket.
144 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“slelol Inelol†csc Josine aml soca
after scream rang out upon the air.
Now it happened that the children’s
father was just -then crossing from the well
to the house, when he heard the screams.
“Where are the children?†he cried,
rushing into the house.
“il seme imem over to ime Wilsons tio
get the brass kettle,†answered Mrs. Cary.
EGOOde leaves) ae cme Cam inc ata nety
“some ill has betallem them; and, Seizing
his gun, without another word, he rushed
down to the brook.
AMC iIME Sane inmonment, ruin iim —Inayncl,
there came hurrying down from the opposite
mEeS One Of Uae Wilsom boys, his face
deadly pale, his breath coming quick and
fast.
Did our heaieae Sereaimn ine wciied
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 145
as Farmer Cary reached the little foot-bridge
that lay across the brook.
lacie cl walarciiciaas
Salt wvace Mieneyvaly
Ce teil mao simersy wy itleeter lis
“O Reuben, Reuben!†groaned the father ;
“the Indians have stolen my children!â€
“John,†he said, as the other boys
came running up, “away to the fort-house for
help! Hiram, guard our house! George, away
to the Wilson house! Quick, every one! Let
there be no delay! We will go in pursuit!â€
Already Farmer Cary and Reuben had
sped onward along the brook. Darkness was
falling, and not a sound save the singing of
crickets could be heard in the still air of the
night.
A mile farther down the brook they
found signs of a canoe, and the footprints
146 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
of two or more Indians; but no farther
clue of the direction they might have taken
could be found.
To follow along the shore of the lake,
out into which the Indians had rowed, was
useless; for the water was wide, and no
one could predict upon which shore a landing
might be made. :
“What is to be done?†asked young
Wilson.
Just then Tig gave a peculiar little
sniff and a half suppressed bark. Both
men ran to where the dog stood. There,
drawn up beneath the bushes, was a Canoe.
“This is strange,†said Farmer Cary; and
the two men without another word pressed
on into the forest——Tig leading.
All the long night they searched, but
not 2 trace could be found.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 147
Already the sun was beginning to
send up its faint gray light in the east,
when suddenly Tig came to a halt. His
hair stood on end; his ears were erect;
then, backing towards Reuben, his eyes
fixed, he pushed himself close upon the young
man’s feet, as if backing away from some
danger close at hand.
“Where is it, Tig?†whispered Reuben;
DUC Cate vies eavVCle aerseus tea N CUO cimm aia
Farmer Cary crept forward.
In a moment there appeared upon the
ridge of the hill two Indians, carrying in
their hands a gun and a scalping knife.
‘Quickly the white men hid themselves, and
dig scrouched at (their tcet. 9 Ihe Indians
hastened down the hill and crossed within
a few feet of the pursuers, and were making
their way towards the shore.
148 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“They are going back for their canoe,â€
whispercd Reuben.
“And their prisoners are hidden some-
where beyond the hill,’ added Farmer Cary.
At this Tig rushed forward, the two
men following. At the base of the hill on
the other side, Tig suddenly stopped again.
He wagged his tail almost joyfully.
“He sees them,†thought Reuben.
And indeed he did; for there just before
him were the poor children tied each to
a tree. Down upon Mercy’s head the brass
kettle had been crowded until the child
was nearly smothered. Poor little Josh,
tied hands and feet to a tree, could hardly
move a muscle; while near by, cooking over
a camp fire, bent a tall Indian evidently
on guard.
There was no time to be lost. At
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 149
any moment the other Indians might return
with their canoe. Carefully, taking aim,
Reuben discharged his musket, and the
tall Indian fell. Instantly Tig sprang upon
him and seized him by the throat.
A moment more and the two children
had been released. “Not a word! Don't
speak!†whispered Reuben hoarsely; for
there was danger yet so long as the two
red men were alive and so near-at hand.
“If one knew whether LINC. wages On
land or water,†said Farmer Cary.
“If they approach in their canoe, we
are safe,†said Reuben.
“But if they heard the shot, they will
come back by land,†reasoned Farmer Cary.
Tig, meantime, content that the Indian
at his feet could do no harm, had run
wo tile Ini! as Gi ta ~ Iheolk for the other
150 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
two. One moment, and back he ran, his
eyes blazing, and every hair on end.
“ Are they coming, Tig?†asked Reuben.
Tig wagged his tail and again ran up the
Imi, “Jali | ipélatncl ine imeees, clnillchrem,â€
whispered Reuben, and the two men hur-
ried forward, following after Tig, who stood
upon the top of the ridge.
“ Careful, now,’ whispered Reuben. “Creep
softly; I believe they are close at hand.â€
AG ial se CONCd am Eta er@uc ederim uIiG
leaves beneath a low growing bush. Both
men understood, and hid themselves behind
ie imees, IN@r were mey a seuoinel «eo
quick in hiding ; for in an instant an
Indian head appeared above the level of
ine WOO Or tne wiles. Wien amouner, Whey
looked around. They advanced cautiously.
Not a sound was made by their moccasined
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 15]
feet. They crept across the ridge and looked
down into the valley. They shaded their
eyes and. Dect deen Ou cme t nc meet inne)
signalled Reuben and Farmer Cary to each
other. Both raised their muskets and took
most careful aim. The Indians moved a
step forward. They made signs and pointed
down towards the camp fire.
Bang! bang! went the muskets. And
so nearly together that both Indians fell
as if by one shot.
One fell dead — shot through the heart ;
the other, struggling to rise, Tig sprang
Wyrm Ini wit a yell Ol irae, AS si Tio
tear him limb from limb.
Mercy and Josh had watched, trembling
with fear, from behind the trees to which
they had been fastened through that long,
terrible night; and when they saw the Indians
152 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
fall they rushed up the hillside crying, “O
father! O Reuben! we thought we should
never, never see you again!â€
ANocl Wie Wines was mor a Inajooler
dog in all the world than Tig. How Josh
hugged him! And how Mercy cried over
him! Surely if he had not been just the
best dog in all the world, he would have
been utterly ruined with the petting he
received from that time on, until, ten years
later, when, from sheer old age, he curled
Himseli Upysii ay micem vane COnnch soteaulic
fireplace and went to sleep forever.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 153
A HUNDRED YEARS FROM THE
SETTLEMENT.
It was, you remember, in 1620, that
Cite Re insta Uhl camban Cd eOim eulleniinicrme callin
across the wintry ocean, landed in the little
bay off the coast of Massachusetts. In
1629 came the large colony of Puritans who
settled in Salem, and then scattered them-
selves up and down the coast.
Year after year, new shiploads of people
had come and sored! Ineme eingl ilmere, @m
the coast and on the lakes and rivers, all
the way from Maine to Georgia.
The Quakers had settled Pennsylvania,
the Dutch had settled New York. There
was a printing press in Cambridge, and
there was a public library in New York Ginn
154 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
There were churches everywhere — churches
with great, high-backed pews and doors; and
many Of nem log! Ini im thelr loeiieys.
There were, indeed, more than two mil-
lions of people in America! Think of that
as compared with a century before, when
Bile ayes Oiler emai tih) om) Gl melee msiaiibyyaeetin
Massachusetts, and three or four thousand
in the colony in Virginia, the oldest of all.
the colonies.
The country people still dressed simply,
very much as they had in those very first
days; but in the large towns and cities,
there was already much fine society and
elegant dressing.
The country people still clung to their
homespun gowns, their kerchiefs and their
caps. Their houses, now often large and
comfortable, were low, rambling structures,
PROVINCE HOUSE,
156 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
with little windows, a great beam across the
ceiling, and a long low “lean to†at the back.
In the towns and cities, there were
great mansion houses, as they were called,
with elegantly carved halls and stair-cases,
Spacious rooms, and often with great pillars
reaching from the piazza up even to the
third story. Often these mansion houses
were great square buildings with large sunny
rooms, ready always for the guest that was
sure to come; for the Colonial people were
generous indeed in their hospitality.
There had been a time in the first half
Of athe) Centuny —swihenm Miles even, as were
imposed upon those people who were known
to make any attempt at “worldlie dress,†as
they called it. A man must wear his hair
short, even if it was the fashion in England
to wear it long. And a woman who dared
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 157
array herself in jewelry—she was looked
upon with terror—as one upon whom the
judgment of heaven was sure to fall!
There had been some very severe laws
imepthe ecolomies valcon rom Example, iia
woman was known to be a scold, she was
taken out “into the public square and ducked
three times†under the running water of the
village pump.
In the Virginia colony, if a woman
slandered her neighbor, her husband was
likely to be fined heavily; in some cases
five hundred pounds of tobacco were paid
uw de Governor lor wolt@n Of wis
law.
In Connecticut, no one under twenty
years of age was allowed to touch tobacco:
and even after he was twenty, he could
use it but once a day. It is a pity this
158 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
last law isn’t in order even today. If
it were, there would be better health, and
A COUNTRY HOUSE IN COLONIAL TIMES.
our people would not be so “nervous; â€
at any rate, the air would be a great deal
sweeter in many an American home.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 159
There were laws, too, as ‘to dress. If a
man owned land valued at two hundred
dollars, then his wife might be allowed to
wear gold and silver laces; but if any
poor man’s wife dared dress beyond her
means, she was sure to be publicly punished.
In the public squares were erected the
pillory and the stocks, and into these, since
there were no prisons, men who had broken
the laws were placed, and made to stay
there a whole day at a time, to be laughed
at and jeered at by every passer by.
The Sabbath laws were most severe of
all. No laughing and talking, no “secular
reading†were allowed in the homes. In the
old records there are names of colonists who
were fined even for kissing their own wives
and children on the Sabbath day. Poor
little children! Sunday was, I fear, a gloomy
160 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
day for them; for not only must they sit
through the long sermon in the church,. but
even when they were at home they must
not laugh, they must not talk, and if they
read at all, they must read that dreadful
catechism.
If a man or woman was absent from
church except for severe illness, a heavy
fine was laid upon the offender. Often
the men were publicly whipped; and if they
persisted in absenting themselves, they were
liable even to be hanged.
But gradually all these over-severe laws
and customs died away.. So many people -
had come from England—many of them
very wealthy, and so much of elegance in
furniture and in clothing had been brought
across the water, that the English fashions
soon crept into colonial life, until in the cities, -
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 161
society was now as gay, and the men and
women as handsomely dressed as in any
country in Europe.
The fashions in these days were very
pretty. The men powdered their hair and
tied it in a cue behind. Or, if a man did
not wear his own hair in this way, he wore
a powdered wig. . He wore, too, a gay-colored
coat and waistcoat, velvet trousers, silk
stockings, and great, handsome, silver buckles
on his shoes.
The women piled their hair high on
their heads, and powdered it white. Their
dresses were rich brocade, made with pretty
little round waists and great puffed sleeves.
The children, perhaps you will be sorry
to hear, had little part in all this elegance.
It had not by any means yet become the
fashion for children to be much in society.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Their place was at home, and in their beds
at night. “Early to bed and early to fise,â€
was the motto for little folks: They were
also dressed simply and plainly, allowed to
run and play, expected to go to school and
iearn their lessons, and, when night came, to
take their candles and go to bed.
There was now and then a children’s party
in the afternoon, and on these occasions the
children were dressed in their quaint little
dresses, often of rich material; but usually
their straight little frocks of simple cloth were
all they were expected to want; and the little
boys were equally quiet and simple in their
homespun suits and clean, white ruffles.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 163
FORTIFYING BREED’S HILL.
THE WAR OF
THE
REVOLUTION.
In all these years that had passed, the
two millions of people-—some English, some
Dutch, some of French descent—had come
to think of themselves as a united people —
almost as a nation by themselves.
Side by side they had fought together
against the Indians; they had struggled on
together in their little colonies, suffering
164 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
together from cold and hunger; they had
watched each others growth and prosperity,
had opened trade with each other, and were
all loyal and obedient to the English Govern-
ment from which they had all received their
charters.
The very first settlers—many of them,
both the Pilgrims in Massachusetts and the
Quakers in Pennsylvania, had left England
in great bitterness of heart because of the
religious persecution that had been their lot
in that country.
Much of this, however, had died away
now, and little English churches stood side
by side with the Puritan churches in the
colonies, one respected as much as the other;
or at least there was no bitterness between
them.
But now there came a time when
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 165
England, seeing the importance of these
colonies, how rich and powerful they were
growing, bethought herself to make some
use of them.
“They are our children,†said England;
“why should they not help us? We need
money from them to help -support this,
the mother country. They are growing
wealthy. We will call upon them for help.â€
“Certainly we will help,†answered the
colonies. “We number now two million
people. We have cities and towns; we have
manufactures, we have commerce, and we
are ready and willing to give our share of
help to the mother country.â€
“That is very well,†said England ;â€
“that is as it should be. We have planted
the colonies; they have been watered by
our care. We now ask that they show
166 ' gPORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
proof to us that our care has not been a
thankless task.â€
The colonies were glad indeed to receive
this word from the country they loved and
served. They were glad to be recognized by
the English power, and proud to be looked
to for their just share of taxation for the
support of the government.
“Of course,’ said they to each other,
“ne los (axel loy une Seorrerinimren, muczms
that it now recognizes us as of some im-
portance in the great world of commerce
and trade. And if we are of importance
enough to enter upon our part of the
support of the government, we shall have
our representatives in the Government.â€
“Certainly,†agreed all the colonies; and
they were very proud of the prospect. Indeed
more than one colonist away down in his
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 167
secret heart began to wonder if it might
not come about that he should be one of
the representatives sent to England to speak
in behalf of the colonies.
“ Representatives!†cried the English
Government. . “Indeed you will have no
representatives. We need your money, and
i mS youre Inusiness ro Incl WS - laces
you are our children; but as to having a
voice in the government indeed, you shall
moa
The colonists looked at each other in
amazement. They had never dreamed of
such injustice. “Do you mean to say that
you propose to tax us for the support of
the Government, and then will give us no
Sma iin i
“That is what we mean,’ answered the
mother insolently.
168 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“Taxation without representation ? â€
gasped the colonists.
“Taxation without representation,’ was
the reply.
“But we will not submit to such injustice.â€
“You shall.â€
“But we will not.â€
“We will whip you into it.â€
The colonies made no farther answer;
but they talked about it, each with the other.
And the more they thought and the more
they talked, the more determined they were
to resist the unjust demand of the English
Government.
“The Government shall never have one
cent from us by any such unfair means,â€
said they. “We would willingly pay our
part if we might in return be considered
as a part of the people — not its slaves.â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 169
“ Millions for defence; but not one cent
for tribute,†thundered Pinckney, the brave
South Carolina orator.
The English Government heard all this;
but it only smiled at what the colonists
said, and went straight on planning ways to
extort from them the money they were so
determined to have.
COLONIAL HORSE SHOE,
ee ee aS
me EAIZ EL, ty, &.
THE CAUSE OF THE WAR.
The first thing the English did to raise
money from the colonists, was to send over
a shipload of paper on which had been
placed an English Government Stamp. |
“You are to use. this paper,’ said the
English Government, “and you are to use
no other. We shall sell it to you for what
ever price we please, and you are to buy it.
VOU aie, nen, wo wse me ia alll lousimess
transactions,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 171
“Por example, if any man sells a house
to another man, the bill of sale must be made
out on this paper or we, as the Government,
will not consider the sale legal. If your
people in the colonies would marry, the mar-
riage certificate must be made out on this
paper or it is of no value before the law. If
a man about to die wishes to make his will,
he must make 1 wpon this papes, or the
claims of his heirs shall be considered of
im) leteoyumts auaval Inui; SUAS, mM, NT Wve
choose, be taken from them by the Govern-
ment.â€
This was a hard blow to the colonists.
It seemed almost as if the paper would
have to be used. How could business men
get on without it? If they did not use it,
business would be stopped; and this, of
course, would be a heavy blow to the
172 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
country; for a man could neither buy nor
sell; he could not even pay a debt and take
for it a receipt of any value unless it was
written on this stamped paper.
The colonists were furious. They talked
of nothing else. Everywhere public meetings
were held and rousing speeches made by
the angry people. Benjamin Franklin, one
of the great colonial .men of his times,
was sent to England to intercede for the
colonies.
Even in the English House of Lords:
itself, there were men who condemned
the action of their own government. The
great William Pitt was one. Rising in his -
seat, he thundered out across the great
chamber, “We are told that the Americans
are obstinate; that they are almost in open
rebellion against us. I rejoice that they are
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 173
obstinate ; I rejoice that they have resisted;
I rejoice that they are not willing to submit
like slaves to our injustice.â€
Now, William Pitt was a great man in
the English House; and to have him come
out in defense of the colonists, was a blow
to this English action against them. Week
in and week out this battle of words was
waged in the English Parliament; and in
the end, it came about that the stamped
paper was recalled, and the colonists were
free for a time to do as they wished.
But the government had by no means
given up the fight. It was not very long
before a law message was sent over to the
colonies, saying, “We shall now tax your
tea — three pence a pound on your tea.â€
Again the colonists stormed. “The three
pence a pound is little; but the principle,
174 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
the principle is at stake! Taxation without
representation! we will not endure— be it
three pence or even three farthings!†Again
public meetings were held and public speeches
mades ihe people talked of nothing cise
and ine Papers Were Tile Ol it SOMmer one
made a comical song about it, in which the
English Government was called the Old Lady
from over the sea, and the colonies were
called her daughter.
~
Ce
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 1
NS a5;
SAAN TT he
PART OF A TEA SET OF 1776,
REVOLUTIONARY TEA.
There was an old Lady, lived over the sea,
And she was an Island Queen ;
Her daughter liv’d off in a new countrie,
With an ocean of water between ;
The old lady’s pockets were full of gold,
But never contented was she,
So she called on her daughter to pay her a tax
Of three pence a pound on her tea,
Of three pence a pound on her tea.
176 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“Now Mother, dear Mother, the daughter
_ replied,
“I sha’n't do the thing you ax,
I’m willing to pay a fair price for the tea,
But never the three penny tax;
“You shall,†quoth the mother, and reddened
with rage,
“For you're my own daughter you see,
And sure, ‘tis quite proper the daughter
should pay
Her mother a tax on her tea,
Her mother a tax on her tea.â€
And so the old lady her servant called up,
And packed off a budget of tea,
And eager for three pence’a pound, she put in
Enough for a large familie;
She ordered her servants to bring home the
tax,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 1
wl
~l
Declaring her child should obey,
Or old as she was and almost woman grown,
She’d half whip her life away,
She’d half whip her life away.
The tea was conveyed to the daughter’s door
All down by the ocean’s side,
And the bouncing girl pour’d out every
pound |
In the dark and boiling tide ;
And then she called out to the Island Queen,
“O Mother, dear Mother,†quoth she,
“Your tea you may have when ‘tis steeped
enough,
But never a tax from me,
No! never a tax from me.â€
t
178 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
SENDING FOOD TO THE SOLDIERS,
THE CHILDREN JUST BEFORE
THE WAR.
You may be sure the children were
not behind in loyalty in all these times.
As soon as it was found that war with
England must surely come, that there was
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 179
no escape from it, unless like slaves, the
colonists were willing to submit to the in-
justice of the Mother country, the men and
women, and even the little children, set
themselves to work to prepare for war.
What could the children do? Indeed
there was much they could do. The little
girls could knit stockings for the soldiers
that were to be; they could spin the yarn—
for it was the custom in those days to have
in the houses spinning wheels. They could
help weave, too; for there were great looms
set up in the houses upon which rough
homespun cloth could be woven. And the
boys—often they, too, could help even in
the spinning and the weaving.
And the farmer-boys raised chickens
and sheep, which they sold to get money
for the war; or later, when the war really
180 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
was upon them, the chickens and _ sheep
were sent for food for the soldiers.
One little girl gave her own little
pet lamb—all she had—for the relief of
the Boston people, who had been crowded
out and half-starved by the British soldiers
who came into Boston and made of Boston
common their camping ground.
{ WANT TO KNIT STOCKINGS FOR THE SOLDIERS,â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 13]
lettiad, |
GEN, GAGE AND THE BOSTON BOYS,
THE BOSTON BOYS.
And speaking of the Boston Commen
brings to mind at once the story of the plucky
little boys that went to the British General to
complain of the way his soldiers had treated
them.
182 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
It came about in this way: Boston Com-
mon, being laid out on a side-hill, and having,
too, little low, hollow places in which the rains
could collect and make little ponds, afforded a
most excellent winter play-ground for the boys
of Boston. On the side-hills there was such
coasting! and on the ponds, the skating was
perfect,— as you will grant skating always is.
But unfortunately for the boys it was on
this very common that the British soldiers,
who had now been sent over from England to
frighten the Colonists into submission, had
made their camp. This ought not, however,
to have made any difference to the boys as far
as their coasting and skating was concerned ;
for their was plenty of room for both soldiers
and boys.
The soldiers, however, feeling that they
had come to subdue the Colonists, and that
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 183
no opportunity to show their authority was
too small to be made use of by them, began at
once to annoy even the little boys. At night
they would break the ice on the ponds, and
scatter sand on the coasts, or dig down
through the snow until bare ground showed
through,— just for no reason in the world, you
see, but to annoy the little boys who were so
TinKOTuUna CmecHetOm bcmUncanclilcnenmmotme une
colonists.
One day there came a heavy rain. The
coasts were icy, and the old ice on the ponds
was flooded over with water. “Now if it will
only clear off cold,’ said the boys, exactly as
you would say the same words to-day.
The Weather clerk was kinder to the
boys than the soldiers were. It did clear off
cold,— very still and cold— and the ice froze
quickly and’ smoothly. After school at noon,
184 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
and again at night, the boys came to look
upon this ice. They stepped out to test if
just a little way. It cracked a little —it was
not quite strong enough yet.
“use like glass, ane loos Sancl © We
morrow it will bear us—then hurrah for the
Skating !â€
Happy as happy boys could be, they went
home that night to sharpen their skates and
fix their straps—to be all ready in the morn-
ing. These boys were not afraid to rise with
the sun, and there would be a good long time
to skate before school-time.
Hardly was the sun well up when their
voices were heard on Beacon Hill and all
around. They were already on their way to
the Common.
But alas for their fine hopes! In the
night-time the sentinels, having nothing
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 185
better to occupy their minds, had gone on to
the ponds, and had cut and chopped the ice.
There was room not even for one boy to cut a
circle.
A more indignant set of boys you never
saw. How their eyes flashed and their cheeks
blazed! And talk? Never did boys talk so
fast and so loud and so all at once, each one
screaming above the other, as did these boys.
“The cowards !â€
“The miserable English !â€
“The theiving red-coats |â€
“See here, boys,†screamed one boy, even
louder than all the rest. “We won't bear it!
I tell you we won’t bear it! I move we go
straight to Gen. Gage and tell him what his
cowardly red-coats have done.â€
“But Gen. Gage is a red-coat too.â€
“Yes, but he wouldn't be so mean as to
186 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
attack boys. My father says Gen. Gage is no
coward even if he is a red-coat.â€
“Let’s go straight to him!†screamed all
the boys.
WLers co mow! Well imam alll atoowe ti!
Show him the ice! Make him come and look
at it!†And away the boys ran, straight to the
tent of the great Gen. Gage himself.
Hardly had the general presented himself
when the leader burst forth. Now the col-
onial children, as I have told you, were very
quiet, retiring little people, having been
brought up on the Be-seen-and-not-heard ates
but this time the boys forgot all about rules.
Little thought had they for anything but that
justice be done them.
Gen. Gage heard them through. You see
he had been a boy once himself, great as he
Was now,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 187
“Who sent you here,†asked he, “to com-
plain of my soldiers? Have your rebel
fathers been teaching you, too, to rebel?â€
“Nobody sent us, sir. And we don’t
come to rebel. Your soldiers- have not used
us well. They have behaved like cowards.
They have broken down our forts, they have
spoiled our coasts, and now they have broken
the ice on our ponds. We have not rebelled;
we only come to you for justice.â€
The general laughed — how could he help
it? “Very well, my lads, I promise you my
‘soldiers shall not trouble you again. If they
do, come to me. You are plucky little
fellows, and you shall have your coasts and
your ponds.â€
eWnank yom, stl “‘Winemle you, selâ€
cried the boys. Indeed, had he not been a red-
coat, I think they would have cheered him, so
188 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
fairly had he met and answered their just
appeal.
“Even the children,†said Gen. Gage,
telling the story to a brother officer — “even
the children here draw in the love of liberty in
the very air they breathe.â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 189
YF,
wl Me ly
SS '\, Mi My
Ne
A DARING GIRL»
A DARING GIRL.
During the war that followed between the
colonists and England, the colonial children
more than once proved themselves worthy to
be the sons and daughters of the brave men
190 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
and women who were struggling to save their
country.
There was on the Ohio river a large fort,
called Fort Henry. Of the forty-two soldiers
‘who, with their wives and children made up
the garrison, thirty had been slain in ambush
by the Indians. Only twelve men were left.
to defend these dear ones from a band of
five hundred savages that one day suddenly
burst upon them. But these soldiers, although
few in number, were skilled marksmen, and
it was not long before many an Indian lay
dead under their unerring aim.
“The powder is giving out!†soon whis-
pered the captain hoarsely.
WEny OMe Starrecl Wn werner, Wo sie
render meant death to every woman and child
in the fort.
“ Outside—only sixty yards away, in the
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 191
powder-house, lies a cask of powder. If we
only had that!†groaned the captain.
yi ct calcmeceayOoutn, Nic face
growing pale and stern as he spoke.
“Vou know it means death,†answered
the captain.
“ll Inaomre loli Woe jrowGcler mnusi, 1oe
brought. One of us must go. It may as well
Deus
“But not one man can be spared!†cried
Elizabeth Vane, springing towards the youth.
“Stand by your gun and I will go.â€
“You!†cried the men.
“Yes— I.â€
“But you will be killed.â€
“J shall be killed if we surrender,†said
she; “and not a man can be spared.†And out
she rushed from the fort, across the space,
straight towards the powder house.
192 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN
Even the Indians themselves halted and
stared at her. Straight through their fire she
passed and entered.
The Indians. did not seem to understand
——not even when she came forth, the little .
cask folded in her apron. On, on she flew
towards the fort; and not until she had nearly
reached the gate, did a suspicion of what she
had done seem to dawn upon the stupid
savages. But when they saw, whizz, whizz,
whizz, whizz flew the arrows through the air
around her head.
One second more and she has reached the
gateway! The colonel himself springs for-
ward and draws her in.
“Thank God! Thank God!†he cried, the
great drops standing out upon his forehead.
The men seized the cask and tore it open.
In a moment a fresh volley burst forth upon
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 1938
the foe. For a time the savages fell back.
Every moment was precious. If only the
garrison might hold out until relief came.
Already a signal had been given. Help must
come very soon. Bravely the twelve men
stood to their post. Not a grain of powder
was wasted. Not a shot but was carefully
guaged; not one but did its work.
“If help will only come! We can hold
out an hour longer,†said the colonel. Slowly
the time dragged on. Every moment seemed
an hour to the strained hearts within the
fort. 7
But at last help did come. Suddenly,
without a moment’s warning, the savage foe
found themselves surrounded and attacked
from every side. Relief had come.
With howls and yells the cruel red men
darted their last arrows and turned and fled.
194 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
The last cask of powder was nearly gone.
But the fort was saved.
All honor to the brave girl, Elizabeth
Vane, who dared the foe, and to the brave
twelve who held them back!
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 195
COL. ALLAN AND HIS BOYS.
Did you ever hear how a certain Col.
Allan and his three boys attacked and defeated
the. English off the coast of Maine?
Colonel Allan was a whole-hearted patriot.
There was nothing he would not sacrifice
for his country. Even the English used to
say of him, “He is the soul of honor; his
word is truth, and he dares fate.â€
During these trying times in the colonies
Col. Allan had made a name for himself.
Everyone — colonists, English, Indians and
all—knew that if Col. Alian said a thing
was to be done, it would be, were it in the
power of man to do it. Both friends and
enemies alike knew this of him, his friends
loving him, and his enemies hating him for it.
196 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“He is a traitor—a traitor to the king,â€
the English would say when reports of his
deeds reached their ears. “Every colonist
in rebellion is a traitor,—this John Allan
one of the very worst of all.â€
“As they please,†the daring Colonel
would laughingly say, when he heard how
the English hated him. “They but rank
me with Washington, Patrick Henry and
other traitors. What greater honor, pray,
can I ask?â€
Now Col. Allan owned a large barge,
named the Minute Man. It was a fine
vessel, rigged with sixteen oars and a full
sail; and besides that, in the bow was mounted
a large swivel gun.
With this barge, Col. Allan was in the
habit of running up and down Passama-
quoddy Bay, at the extreme end of Maine,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 197
always on the watch to harrass and annoy
any English vessels that chanced to be
making their way from the loyal British
provinces to the New England shores.
Often the brave Colonel had narrow es-
capes; and more than once he nearly lost
his life. How he liked to tell of these ad-
ventures when he reached his home! And
how his three boys, William, Mark, and
John, would listen, their eyes and mouths
wide open, their hearts beating fast with a
longing to take their part in the great battle
between the English and the colonists!
One day their opportunity came. It was
a fine clear morning; the wind was fresh,
the waters were sparkling and blue.
“Hoist the sail, my boys,†called the
Colonel, cheerily. “Who knows but to-day
we may save the country!â€
198 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
“Aye, aye, Sil†answered whe wonee
sailor lads, proud to be taken with their
father into the possible conflict.
Hardly had the little barge rounded the
point, and bounded out into the sea, when
William cried, “ Father, I see something!â€
Ewa iS mee Called loge ne Colonel,
- who was steering the craft.
“T don't know. It looks like
“Mark, you are farsighted. Take a
sharp look, my lad!â€
“T believe it’s a British man-of-war!â€
cried Mark, straining his eyes to see.
“Ts it coming this way?â€
“i doulink ie iS ay anchors aingl tnere aire
two fishing boats! Then there is a some-
Einewelse cant make th Outen
“Look sharp, boys. My old eyes can't
see as far as yours,†called the daring Colonel,
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 199
steering the boat straight towards the man.
of-war.
SMES a ihuhnsilovere iayit |†S@reewnecl alll wines
boys, as the barge neared the man-of-war.
“William,†load up the swivel,’ said
the Colonel, quickly. “ John, are the ropes all
right? Mark, look to the powder.â€
Butadiene late Can OUL alittle atOUntc
pound gun do against that great British
man-of-war ?â€
“Never mind the man-of-war, she’s an-
chored,†laughed the Colonel.
“But she has launches.â€
‘Staimenes = on counse- bul Aareliwe
afraid of an English launch?â€
For a few minutes all was still. One
boy packed the gun, another worked at the
ropes; another cleared the deck. All was
bustle and hurry. Rapidly the little barge
200 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
shot forward straight towards the lumber
raft.
As they drew near, they found there
were no less than twenty lumber men upon
it, and many of them were armed with mus-
kets. It was a large raft. Thousands and
thousands of logs were piled upon it.
The lumber men saw the little barge
bearing down upon them. “ What’s that?â€
called one of them.
it 15 -vllans. bare. ie smmiserable
traitor!†called another.
“Does he think to attack us, here under
cover of this English man-of-war?†laughed
another.
“Those hot-headed rebels! They don't
know what they think,’ sneered another.
But all this time the little barge was
sailing straight on towards the raft. The
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 201
-breeze was stiff; and in five minutes only
it had come up within half a mile of it.
“Come, WVillliaven, loeeue 2, lmeincl Wiley
and John, stand by the sheets. Steady now,
while I take a shot at the English beggars.â€
It was not easy to take aim from the
bounding rocky barge. But dowm came the
first shot so close upon the heads of the
raftsmen that they were quick to dodge and
throw themselves flat upon the logs.
“Cood! leteined ane Colkomell, © Wank,
another four-pounder. Steady there! William.
Mind the helm. Now then, ready!â€
“Bang!†thundered the little four-pound
swivel again. A second, and up flew a
Dein Or wae lithe iene, - Wye joel Inexel Jowtt
the logs. Panic followed. One raftsman
jumped into the water. ‘ Ship ahoy!†they
cried, calling upon the man-of-war for help.
902 “STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
The Colonel chuckled. “The cowards!â€
he hissed between his teeth. “Now, once
more at them! Steady, boys! Lay along-
side! Mark, be ready to let go the sheet!
Now!â€
Bang went the little four-pounder a
third time.
“It's no use,†growled the raftsmen ;
and with one rush they took to their boats,
paddling away for dear life towards the
man-of-war.
Bump came the little craft alongside.
Seizing an axe, the Colonel leaped on board.
Quick as a flash, his practiced eye saw where
to strike his blows to break up the raft.
Only a few moments, and away the logs
went, bobbing up and down upon the waves,
drifting in every direction over the sparkling
waters.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 203
“No British will build vessels of those
logs, my boys,†laughed the Colonel, jumping
back upon the little barge.
But hardly had he seized the helm, when
boom went the great gun from the man-
of-war !
“Awake are you, at last,’ laughed the
Colonel. “A little too late, however. Tack
away, boys. Now for home!â€
BP SUeScel eee CHIC tiNc Oya sunlehecea
launch set out.â€
d
“Tack away, boys,†was all the Colonel
answered.
“And there are two other boats!â€
“And a great brass gun!â€
“And they are heading towards us!â€
“ Naturally,†answered the Colonel, cooly.
“Give me the tiller! Quick now! Stand
by the sheets! Do as I bid you!â€
204 STORIES OF COLONIAL CIILDREN.
The Minute Man stood off; the enemy
bore down upon them.
“They'll have us sure!†whispered the
boys.
“ Never!†thundered the Colonel. “There’s
more than one way to escape. Now stand
by. Weill give them a race ye) leks jopny.â€
Away the Minute Man scudded before
the wind, the launch close on behind.
“They are gaining on us!†called William.
eiieval have testis) tinlc he
“No they won't, my boy. It’s a close
game we are playing with King George;
but we'll win, never fear.â€
“ But how, father?â€
“Do you see that wooded point just
below 2†Head straight to it. Lay round
the cove. The water is deep. I know the
place. Quick, quick now, Diya lec Ss
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 205
A moment, and the little barge had
rounded the point. For the time they were
out of sight of the launch. “Now, boys,
off with your coats! Jump overboard and
swim for the shore! Quick! lose not a
sscond†uc as une Colonel Spoke, Ine,
himself, struck down the mast, knocked in
a great plug at the bottom of the barge.
Then, leaping overboard, swam ashore.
The barge sank quickly out of sight.
The Colonel and the boys hid themselves
beneath the bushes. Only a moment and
the launch swept round the point, the little
boats close behind.
“Now we have them!†the captain
was saying; but imagine his astonishment,
as he rounded the point, to find nothing
to have!
No barge! no men! The water clear
206 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
-and smooth! No trace of life to be seen!
The captain rubbed his eyes. Had he
been asleep! Had he dreamed all this!
lie Sailors Stars at cach olner ili
superstitious fear. “Witches,†they whis-
pened. (0 = cach Opnen = ands minmncds (oO) mon,
away. Up and down the cove, the launch
swept two, three times or more, its crew
staring in dumb amazement, first at the
Water, woe a tne Shore, eimcl lease or alll,
at each other.
“Very strange,†growled the lieutenant,
as the launch turned away, and went back
to the man-of-war.
Colonel Allan and his three boys now
came out from their hiding places, dried
idnxene Clones, eincl Inbineiecl lbACK ite finer
homes.
“The witches were in that barge!†the
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 207
sailors declared. And when, a few days later,
Colonel Allan raised the barge, and appeared
again in the bay with it, as bold and as daring
as ever, the English were more puzzled still.
“Ts the man in league with the witches ?â€
they asked each other. “And do they teach
him to make his barge to appear and dis-
appear at his will?â€
COLONISTS GRINDING CORN,
208 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
A LITTLE HERO.
There were many little boys and girls in
these revolutionary days, who did their part in
the saving of the country just as bravely as
did their fathers and their mothers.
Little Robert, a lad of only eight years,
stood one morning, staring into the great fire-
place, where the logs snapped and crackled as
brightly and as cheerfully as if there were no
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 209
war, no danger, no sorrow in this beautiful
lainGh, SO. loroecl aincl inca.
“] wish J were a hero,†said Robert,
stuffing his little fists down into his pockets.
“T wish I were a hero and could go to war.â€
Robert’s mother sighed as she looked at
her boy and thougnt of his father, in battle,
perhaps, at that very hour with the cruel red-
Coats NObenu at nhomont omy wOretne “fine
uniform, the music, the marching, and all the
grand parade of war; but Robert's mother
thought of the danger, the suffering, and the
desolation.
“Never mind, Tye DOV, sSaideeishics
“remember we can all be heroes in our every-
day life.â€
Just then there came a noise at the door.
It was as if some. one fell with a groan upon
the wide stone step outside.
210 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Robert and his mother hurried to the
door, and lifted the latch.
There upon the step lay a red-coat. His
eyes were closed and his face was deathly pale.
~What should be done? Here was a brother
man suffering and in want of help. But he
was a red-coat. Could they give help to an
enemy and bring back his strength to him ?
Just then the soldier opened his eyes.
“ Help — help!†he whispered Hel To yee me Deca
not — a — red-coat,— _I—am a spy.†Then
the eyes closed again, and the sick man
fainted.
“We must bring him into the: house,
Robert,†said his mother. “But first run and
bring a cup of cold water.â€
tn a moment the soldier opened his eyes
again. “Quick!†he said. “The British are
coming. Already they have wounded me.â€
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 211
And hardly had he spoken, when there
appeared upon the hill-top two horsemen.
“Robert, help me!†cried the boy’s
mother. “Quick! we must get this poor man
into the house and bolt the door.â€
It was wonderful that they had the
Strength; but seizing the soldier by the
shoulders, they dragged him, half fainting,
over the threshold, locked him securely into
a secret closet — Colonial houses often had
and were
secret closets built into the walls
apparently busy at work in the kitchen when
the horsemen halted at the door.
Robert was pale and trembling, and his
teeth chattered. 3
A horseman noticed this; and, pouncing
upon the child, he thundered, “ Where is the
spy that ran down through this valley an hour
ago? Tell me, or we'll burn your house.â€
212 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Poor Robert,! His tongue clung to the
roof of his mouth; his knees trembled, and_
the whole world seemed whirling round and
round. ao
One horseman winked at the other. « The
lad knows,†he said in a low tone; “we will
frighten him into telling.â€
Pil sigonite ell†— Rehyer shouted, so
frightened and so determined to be brave that
he forgot to be wise,
“You won't?†thundered the horseman.
“Then, my lad, you will go with us, and we
will shut you up in a big black prison.†And
as he said these cruel words, he reached down
fiom his horse, caught the little fellow by the
collar, lifted him on to the horse, turned and
galloped away, and all so quickly that Robert
hardly knew what had happened until he was
half way down the lane.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 213
“ Robert, Robert!†screamed his mother;
but the red-coats cared little for her cries.
Across the fields, over the hills, down the
valley the war horse galloped, until Robert,
who had never been outside his father’s farm,
wondered if they would carry him to the end
of the world.
“Will you tell me now?†the horseman
said to him when they had reached a place
where there were hundreds of white tents, and
where the red-coats were parading up and
down in lines.â€
PO Never cOpbede open. hres Blins
trembling so that he could hardly speak.
“Little rebel!†hissed the soldier. “No
time to be wasted on this lad. He’s little:
but he’s a rebel. Throw him into the cellar
of the inn. Mind you that you lock the iron
doors,†he shouted to a serving man near by.
214 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
Robert’s heart sank. All the sky grew
black ; and the poor little fellow knew nothing
more until he opened his eyes an hour later
and found himself in a black hole —so black
he could hardly see the empty old casks
against which he lay..
For hours and hours the boy lay there
sobbing; for what boy of eight years would
not have been filled with terror at such a fate
as this? -
By and by it grew darker and darker ;
then Robert knew that night had fallen.
Music and dancing he heardabove him; and
often the loud laughter of the men outside.
“But hark! what sound is that? It is
the rasping of a rusty lock! Then a flash of
light! A whisper—“Little boy, are you
iiletiorras
Robert sprang to his feet. Had an
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 215
angel come to rescue him? Certainly it
seemed like one —so beautiful was the lady’s
face. “Hush! child,†she whispered. “Don’t
speak; come with me. I will carry you
Mommies a
A moment, and the child had been hurried
up the narrow stairway, out through a black
passage, out into the starlight. There stood
a milk white horse fastened by the bridle.
The lady herself, dressed though she was in
her rich silk robe, and sparkling with jewels,
mounted the horse, and away they flew again |
over hill and plain.
“You can find your way home rom
nen, Iititle Ino,†tne lechy secl at laste amedl,
letting Robert down from the horse, she
turned and was away before the grateful lad
could speak one word.
Day was just breaking, and away across
216 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
the fields he could see his home shining out
among the trees. Howheran! There were
lights in the house; for no one had thought
of sleep in that home from which the boy had
been stolen. Back and forth, back and forth,
all night long, Robert’s mother had paced,
praying, while the tears ran down her cheeks,
for her boy’s safe return.
‘S@- inotier! smote! = INopent shouted,
bursting in at the unlocked door. “ O mother,
mother, I didn’t tell! And then exhausted,
. the little fellow fell at his mother’s feet.
SN vas brave. | DOvelle a iny se little seineno: le.
sobbed the mother, taking him up in her arms,
the tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.
“Was I a hero?†whispered Robert; and
in another second, so tired out was he with the
long night of terror that, witha great sigh, he
fell asleep, held close in his mother’s arms.
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 217
COLONIAL DAYS AT AN END.
It was in 1783 that the war closed, the
armies disbanded, and the victorious colonial
soldiers returned to their homes.
The colonies were very poor. All the
wealth they had, had been poured out to sup-
port the army. Taxes, and very heavy taxes,
had to be levied upon the people to raise
money to pay the debts of the government.
«We must have a new form of govern-
Ment sald tespeople: Nias sine OulE
country are in such a condition and so many
matters need serious attention, that we ought
to have some sort of a central government,
with one man at its head who should overlook
the whole.†,
I will not trouble you to hear how it all
218 : STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
came about — you would hardly care to read
about it — but.the end of it all was that a new
form of government was formed, and GEorGE
WASHINGTON, who, as you well know, had
been the great man of the war, was made
President. |
These were wonderful days in the Col-
onies — but stop! we must not say Colonies
any more. For the connection with, and
dependence upon England was now at an end.
The English army had been beaten and sent
back to England in disgrace. The Colonies
were not colonies any longer. They were
now united states —so they said of themselves
—united as one people, under one govern-
ment:—TuHeEe UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!
There were celebrations and celebrations
from one end of the country to the other; in —
every colony — State, I mean —and in every
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. | O1y
city and town and village, when it was pro-
claimed that a new government, a new nation
now was born, and that Washington was to
be its president.
There were processions and fireworks and
tableaux. In one city a great car was made,
shaped like an eagle, and drawn by six superb
horses in most magnificent harness, with silver
bells and waving plumes.
From his home in Virginia, Washington
set forth upon his journey to New York,
where he was to be inaugurated. There were
no railways then, and he made his way on
horseback from town to town. Everywhere
he was greeted with songs; and long proces-
sions of happy children went forth to meet
him. At Trenton, where, during the war, he
had fought great battles, cheered by hosts
upon hosts of people, a great arch of flowers
220 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.
was raised across a bridge over which he was
to pass, and the children, as he rode through
the city, strewed flowers at his feet. Beneath
the arch stood Trenton’s most beautiful young
girls, singing as he approached, these verses:
“Welcome, mighty chief, once more,
Welcome to this grateful shore:
Now no mercenary foe
Aims again the fatal blow,—
Aims at thee the fatal blow.
Virgins fair and matrons grave,
Those thy conquering arm did save,
Build for thee triumphal bowers:
Strew, ye fair, his way with flowers! —
Strew your hero’s way with flowers!â€
As he drew near to New York City, a
great and beautiful barge was sent out to
STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 221
meet him, and a grand procession escorted
him to Federal Hall where, with great cere-
mony, he was now inaugurated and so made
THE First PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED
STATES OF AMERICA.
LITERATURE.
Paul Dombey.
UNG FOLKS LIBRARY iz
OF CHOICE UTE RATER it
From oT, and Son,
By CHARLES DICKENS.
Cricket on
the Hearth.
By CHARLES DICKENS.
i EDUCATIONAL RUBLISHING co.
ih
]} new york. cricaco
Bads., 30 cts.; Cloth, 40 cts.
Little Nell.
From the Old Curiosity Shop. By CHarirs DICKENS.
Boards, 40 cents; Cloth, 50 cents.
The beautiful story is
abridged and separated out
of the other matter and
thus made much more easy
for the young reader, who
is sure to feel the fascina-
i epi d THE OLD
tion at once. ‘This is a |i CURIOSITY SHOP
ae
book to delight the heart fi}
of any imaginative child [, of
of nine or ten years. x NIN AN
fe yee
— Wis. School Fournal,
Massachusetts.
Boards. Fully Illus.
348 pp. Price, 60 cents;
Cloth, 75 cents.
Among the first of the
colonies to be settled, its
history “> individually con-
nected with that of every
State of the Union.
IN SAME SERIES.
Stories of New York.
Fully Mlustrated. Boards, 40 cents; Cloth, 60 cents.
The Great West.
Fully Illus. Boards, 40 cts.
Cloth, 50 cts.
This gives the stories of
the early discoveries and
settlements by the adven-
turous western pioneers,
detailing the French, Span-
ish and English explora-
tions with later American
settlements from the Atlan-
tic to the Pacific.
NATURE STORIES.
(1st Year Pupil.)
Some of
Our Friends.
Large Type Edition. Illus.
Bds., 30 cts.; Cloth, 40 cts.
For First Year.
Interesting stories of ani-
mals told in a charming
manner. Easy reading for
very little children.
Nature Stories for Youngest Readers.
By ANNA CHASE Davis.
Embellished with colored
photographic illustrations,
EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING Co. |
Gentlemen :— You are to be II
congratulated upon the illus-
trations In your Wature Stories
Sor Youngest Readers. Little
children will get more from
these than from the text, as
good as it is.
Yours truly,
Henry T. BAILey,
State Supervisor
of Drawing, Mass.
Boards, 30 cts.; Cloth, 40 cts.
NATURE STORIES
Youngest Readers
ANIMALS
WILD ano TAME
ANNA CHASE DAVIS
Ee ar, Bh (SSDS
s00 Toy Ditties o£
s Re ‘ nage: Rank
a tk Nosccmid
= Getmany
bers Vols 1 atid Yh,
Pete ts
Stems, BAG Aes
S,0f Birdia sobeand*
: cfonztc oy Seam Natoes SerboBuete
Le ives fr Peis
Fee art conde GN Sedge eRe ge
pisries ‘ : id
AArialets etram i ower sad:
H Stee†1OY ont Leaders
ares Ge ei 2
i SGreget -yentors
Ns 1 Piones: 3
@hi-iren 5
isteny Stories. “Vols. 7? 1h, Ts eV.
Mand , i
ubausctts
vette ana tt Salic
LAS
3 iP seos PAT
‘ af verti Ear
Publishing Comput ave
LOSTON.
CHICAGO
= Ss
Bigucatic:: :
~ YOR %
ZL? Raa