 CHAPTER I. CAUSES OF THE REVOLUTION. You remember in the French and Indian War the colonists began to feel dissatisfied with the way England treated them. Up to that time England had left them pretty much alone. But as soon as she found they really were beginning to be quite important, that they were carrying on quite a little commerce and manufacturing, that they were raising quite a large amount of cotton and tobacco, and were really growing every year in wealth, and in numbers, and in power. Then she thought at quite time that they'd be made to help support the English government. The colonists, since they considered England their mother country, were quite willing to do this, and would have done it had England treated them fairly. Did you ever think where the money comes from to keep and order the cities or town you live in, to build its public buildings, to lay out its streets, and to pay all the officers and workmen for their work? Of course you know that every state has a governor, who has been chosen by votes of the people. He stands as the head man in the state. But of course he could not go about to every house to ask people what they would like to have done in their particular cities or towns. And so the work is divided. Somewhat as the school system is in large towns and cities. There is a superintendent, who has charge of the teaching in the town or city. But as he could not teach every child he engages a principal to take charge of each school building. And each principal, in his turn, has a teacher to take charge of each room in the building. The government of the state is somewhat like this, in its division at least. All the men of one town go to the polls, as they call it, and vote for some one man to represent them. They tell him what they won't, and he is expected, when he meets at the state house with a representative from all other parts of the state, to express the wishes of these men who voted to have him fill this office. The state calls these representatives together, finds what each town wants, and the money which all these property owners in all the towns have paid in, is distributed as these representatives think best. In the same way the work is divided in each city or town. The men all go to the polls again for a municipal election, as it is called. That is, to elect men to carry on the city affairs. They elect one man to oversee the whole city, much as the governor oversees the whole state, and as the superintendent oversees the whole school system. Then there is another man elected to oversee the water supply, another to oversee the roads, another to collect the taxes, and many, many more. So many that, rather than take the time here to try to name them, I think I will leave you to ask your fathers about them, for very likely they can explain it all to you a great deal better than I can on paper. But all these officers must be paid for working for the city, and they must also have money to carry on the work that is expected of them, and this money is raised by taxation. That is, every property holder pays in a certain amount of money to help pay the expenses of the town or city. The taxpayers are willing to do this, because they know it will all go to pay the salaries of these officers. To build roads, lay out public parks, support the schools. All those things that go to help make our cities and towns pleasant and comfortable. This sort of taxpaying is perfectly just, because each town in this way gets its share of the good things which its tax money has bought. Now let us see what England tried to do. What it was that made the colonies so angry that at last they rose in arms against the mother country. She said, You are getting so wealthy now, you ought to pay tax to us. The colonists said, Very well, we shall be glad to do so, for we consider ourselves as little towns belonging to England, and so of course we expect to give our share of the money which the government needs. But you are not to have any of this money back again, said England. The king will do what he pleases with it. Neither are you to send any representative to us, and we will hear none of your prayers. Then the colonists were angry indeed. We are not slaves, said they, and we are not going to pay money to England unless we can have representatives and be treated like the towns in England. But greedy England only laughed at them and said, You shall do as we tell you to, or we will send our soldiers over to whip you into obedience. England didn't realize that the colonies might prepare to whip British soldiers themselves. Now I hope from all this, and this has been a pretty long lesson, I fear, I hope you will understand, and will never forget, that the reason the colonists made war with England was because England was determined to tax them without allowing them any part in the government. As the histories say, the cause of the revolution was taxation without representation. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt, Chapter 2 The Stamp Act One of the first things England did to raise money from the colonists was to issue the Stamp Act. The king sent over a large amount of paper on which had been put a certain stamp. This paper the king ordered the colonists to use on all their government writing. Nothing, so the king said, would be considered of any value unless it was written on this stamped paper. For example, suppose a man owed another man a hundred dollars. When he paid the debt, the receipt would not be considered of any value unless it was written on this particular paper. Suppose a young man and maiden were to go before the minister to be married. The marriage was not legal, so the king said, unless the minister did the writing, which was always given the married bride and groom on this stamped paper. Now, as the king had put a very high price upon this paper, you can see how, by compelling the American colonists to buy it, it was but one way of getting a heavy tax from them. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 3 Behavior of the Colonists The colonists all over the country were furious when this stamped paper was sent to them. The Boston people declared they wouldn't buy one sheet of it. They would buy nothing, sell nothing. The young men and maidens would not get married. They would do nothing indeed, which compelled them to use this stamped paper. To show their contempt for the whole matter they made a straw figure of the English officer who had the paper to sell, dressed it in some old clothes of his, and hung it on a big tree on Boston Common. In New Hampshire the people paraded the streets with a coffin on which was written, liberty is dead. They carried it to the grave, had a make-believe funeral, and then, just as they were about to bury it, someone shouted, liberty is not dead. Then they drew up the coffin and carried it through the streets again, crying, liberty's alive again, liberty's alive again. In Charleston, South Carolina stood an old tree known as Liberty Tree. It was a great live oak growing in the center of the square between Charlotte and Boundary Streets. During the Excitement over the Stamp Act about twenty men belonging to the best families in the state assembled beneath this tree to hear an address by General Gadson. With vigor he condemned the measure and urged his hearers to resist to the utmost such abominable tyranny. This is said to have been the first public address of the kind that had been delivered in the colonies. The men, after hearty cheers, joined hands around the tree and pledged themselves to resist English oppression to the death. The names of these men are still on record. Most of them were indeed true to their pledge and distinguished themselves in the war that followed by their courage and patriotism. This Liberty Tree was regarded with such reverence by the patriotic Carolina people that Sir Henry Clinton, who held Carolina after it surrendered to the British, ordered it to be destroyed. It was cut down, and afterwards its branches were heaped about the trunk and the hole burned. A mean act, one would say, to burn an unoffending tree. But perhaps Sir Henry had in mind the old antidote which, if I remember rightly, runs something like this. Why do you kill me, an innocent trumpeter? I have not fought against you. Very true, replied the captor. You may not fight yourself, but you incite others to fight. Hence I kill you. In Pennsylvania, William Bradford, the editor of the Pennsylvania Journal, came out with a final issue at the head of which were skulls and crossbones, pickaxes and spades, all suggestive of the death blow that had been struck at the press. This number of the journal was deeply embellished with heavy black margins, and was in truth a most dolerous-looking affair, as you may see from the picture on the next page. In Virginia a young man named Patrick Henry so stirred up the people that the old men, angry as they were with England, were frightened, and begged him to be careful what he said. Benjamin Franklin was sent to England by the colonists to see what could be done. When he reached there he found that many of England's greatest men were on the side of the colonists. One of the men in the English government rose and made a speech against the colonists, in which he said, What? Will these Americans, these children of ours, who have been planted by our care, nourished by us, protected by us, will they now grudge us their money to help throw off our heavy debt? Up jumped Colonel Barr. Planted by your care indeed. It was your persecution that drove them to America in the first place, he cried. Nourished by you? When have you nourished them? They have grown up by your very neglect of them. Protected by you? Have they not just now been fighting with your soldiers to protect you, rather, from the French and the Indians? And good William Pitt of England. He arose and made a speech, which by and by every boy and girl should learn. He said, We are told that the Americans are obstinate, that they are in almost open rebellion against us. I rejoice that America has resisted. I rejoice that they are not so dead to all feelings of liberty as to be willing to submit like slaves. Hurrah for William Pitt and Colonel Barr. Don't forget, all you little American men and women, that we had good friends in England then, as we have now. There were lovers of liberty in that country, who were as eager as we were to resist all unjust laws. Chapter 4 Daughters of Liberty People who write histories always tell how brave and bold and patriotic the men and boys are. But seldom do they think it worthwhile to tell of the brave deeds of the women and girls. Now I don't think this is fair at all. Do you girls? And you little boys, if your sisters had done something just as brave as your brothers had done, wouldn't you be very indignant if everybody should come to your house and praise your brothers and mothers and cheer them and all the time shouldn't speak one word to your sisters? I am sure you would. Manly, brave-hearted boys are always ready to stand up for their sisters and are always very angry when someone hurts or neglects them in any way. Now of course the mothers and maidens couldn't take guns and swords and go into battle as the men did, although they did even do that in some cases. But let us see what they did do. Somebody must stay home and take care of the children and the homes and keep up the farms. So the brave women said to their husbands and sons, You go into the battlefield because you are stronger and larger and know about war. We will stay at home and keep the children cared for, that they may grow up strong to help you by and by. We will spin and weave day and night to keep you in yarn for stockings and in cloth for clothes and blankets to keep you warm. We will plant and harvest and grind the corn and do all your work on the farm that there may be food to send you and food to keep you from starving when you all come home again. What think you, would the brave men in any war do if it were not for the brave women back of them at home to keep them from starving? Oh, it is a mean, cowardly man who would say that because the women didn't go forth in battle array that they didn't do their half in saving our country from British soldiers. Let us see who these daughters of liberty as they called themselves were. As soon as the trouble between England and America broke out, the men had formed themselves into societies and had called themselves sons of liberty. They pledged themselves to do everything in their power to drive back the English rule. The women, too, not wishing to appear to be one step behind their fathers and husbands and brothers, formed themselves into societies, the daughters of liberty. They pledged themselves not to buy a dress or a ribbon or a glove or any article whatever that came from England. They formed spinning societies to make their own yarn and linen and they wove the cloth for their own dresses and for the clothes of their fathers and brothers and husbands and sons. The women used to meet together to see who would spend the fastest. One afternoon a party of young girls met at the house of the minister for a spinning match. When they left they presented the minister with thirty skeins of yarn, the fruit of their afternoon's work. The old women, some of whom were too old to do very much work, pledged themselves to give up their tea drinking because the tea came to them from England and because England had put a heavy tax on it. These dear old ladies who loved their tea drinking so much, bravely stood by their pledge. They drank catnip and sage and all sorts of herb teas and pretended they liked it very much. But I suspect many an old lady went to bed tired and nervous and arose in the morning with an aching head, all for the want of a good cup of tea. At that time there appeared in the newspapers many verses written by the English officers, no doubt, often making fun of these brave women, old and young. Here is one of the verses. Old Boston wives and maids draw near and see, our delicate sucong and hyacinth tea. Buy it, my charming girls, fair, black or brown. If not, we'll cut your throats and burn your town. Within eighteen months wrote a gentleman at Newport, Rhode Island. Four hundred and eighty-seven yards of cloth and thirty-six pairs of stockings have been spun and knit in the family of James Nixon of this town. In Newport and Boston the ladies, at their tea drinkings, used instead of imported tea, the dried leaves of the raspberry. They called this substitute Hyperion. The house of seventeen-seventy at Cambridge took their diplomas and homespun suits that they too might show their defiance of English taxation without representation. End of Chapter Four Chapter Five of American History Stories, Volume Two This LubriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume Two by Mara L. Pratt Chapter Five The Boston Boys Here is a story about the Boston Boys, which is a match for the one you have just read about the Boston girls. On Boston Common the boys used to skate and coast and build forts just as other boys do today. Perhaps their skates weren't quite so elegant as those the Boston boys have now, and very likely their sleds were clumsy homemade affairs, not at all like the beautiful double runners and the toboggans you boys are so proud of. Nevertheless those little lads then had just as jolly times coasting down the same hills and skating the same ponds. The English had, by this time, become so convinced that the colonists were preparing for war that they sent over a large detachment of red-coated soldiers. These soldiers made headquarters in Boston and soon became generally disagreeable to the people. The boys had been watching eagerly the freezing of the ice on the pond on the Common. Tomorrow, thought they, the ice will be strong enough to bear, and then hurrah for skating. Eagerly the boys hastened to the pond in the morning, their skates over their shoulders, their faces bright with the thought of the pleasure before them. But what do you suppose the cowardly soldiers had done during the night? Having nothing else to do, they had broken the ice all over the pond, and just to bother these little boys. Don't you think those great, strong soldiers must have had very mean hearts to go to work to plague little boys in that manner? I am inclined to think these boys were pretty angry when they learned who had done this cowardly act, and very likely they scolded furiously about it. Again and again the soldiers did the same thing. At last, one day when the boys were building a fort, some of these soldiers came idling along and knocked down the fort with their guns. The boys, now angry through and through, determined no longer to bear this mean treatment. Let us go to General Gage, said one of the boys, and tell him how the soldiers are treating us, and if he is any kind of man he will put a stop to it. And go they did at once. With eyes ablaze with anger they marched into the presence of the great English general. After they had laid their wrongs before him, he said, have your fathers been teaching you too, to rebel, and did they send you here to show their feelings? Nobody sent us, sir, answered the leader, but your soldiers have insulted us, thrown down our forts, broken the ice on our pond, spoiled our coasts, and we will not stand it. General Gage could not help laughing at the earnestness of these plucky little fellows. He promised that the soldiers should not bother them any more. Then turning to an officer nearby, he said, even the children here draw in the love of liberty with the very number they breathe. CHAPTER VI. A BRAVE LITTLE GIRL. While General Gage held the town of Boston our people were nearly starved because of the number of British soldiers that must be fed. Accordingly men were sent into the surrounding villages to obtain help. Parson White of the little town of Wyndham urged his people to give all they could, and his little daughter, catching the spirit of loyalty, wondered how she could help the suffering Bostonians. Soon after the villagers prepared to send Frederick Manning to the town with sheep and cattle and a load of wheat. The little girl thought of her pet lamb. Could she? Aught she to part with it. Running to her father she eagerly asked his advice. But the parson, smiling kindly, said, No, dear, it is not necessary that your little heart be tried by this bitter strife, and bade her run away and be happy. But the thought would not leave her. There in Boston were little girls, no older than herself, crying for food and clothing. She must give all she could to help them. At last the day came on which the cattle and supplies of help were to be driven to town. Choking down her sobs, the little martyr untied her pet from the old apple tree, and crossing the fields waited for Manning, the driver at the crossroads. Please, sir, she said, her lip quivering, and the tears rolling down her cheeks. I want to do something for the poor starving people in Boston. I want to do my part, but I have nothing but this one little lamb. Please, sir, take it to Boston with you. But couldn't you carry it in your arms a part of the way? Cos it—it—it is so little, sir. Then bursting into tears and throwing her apron over her eyes as if to shut out the sight of her dear little pet, she ran towards her home. Poor, brave little girl. I hope when she told her mama and papa what she had done that they took their little girl up in their arms and kissed her many, many times, and told her what a dear, brave little girl she had been. I suspect the tears were in their eyes, too, when she told them. And I have always wished the good person had sent a fleet messenger to overtake the driver and bring back the little lamb to its loving owner, for I think it took more real courage to give up that one pet lamb than it did for the Boston boys to go before a general gauge when the soldiers had spoiled their fort. CHAPTER 7 The Boston Massacre Soldiers who would be mean enough to bother little boys as these soldiers had done would be pretty sure to get into trouble with the Russians by their mean acts. They had entered the town one quiet sabbath morning, but instead of coming in quietly and doing whatever was necessary to do in a quiet way, they came in with colors flying and drums beating as if for all the world they had conquered the city. Then, as if this were not insult enough, they took possession of the State House and then marched to the common, where they set up their tents, planted their cannon, and headed to the enraged citizens in every way that they were going to stay. Frequent quarrels took place between these soldiers and the people. One day they fell into an out-and-out fight. Nathaniel Hawthorne, an author who has written such beautiful stories for you children, The Snow Image, A Wonder Book, Grandfather's Chair, etc., gives the following account of the Boston Massacre. It was now the third of March, 1770. The sunset music of the British regiments was heard, as usual, throughout the town. The shrill fife and rattling drum awoke the echoes in King Street, while the last rays of sunshine were lingering upon the cupola of the townhouse. And now all the sentinels were posted, one of them marched up and down before the custom house, treading a short path through the snow, and longing for the time when he would be dismissed to the warm fireside of the guard room. In the course of the evening there were two or three slight commotions which seemed to indicate that trouble was at hand. Small parties of young men stood at the corners of the street, or walked along the narrow pavements. Squads of soldiers who were dismissed from duty passed by them shoulder to shoulder, with the regular step which they had learned at the drill. Whenever the counters took place it appeared to be the object of the young men to treat the soldiers with as much incivility as possible. Turn out, you lobster-back, one would say. Crowd them off the sidewalks, another would cry. A redcoat has no right in Boston Streets. Oh, you rebel rascals! Perhaps the soldiers would reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. Some day or other we'll make our way through Boston Streets at the point of the bayonet. Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a scuffle, which passed off, however, without attracting much notice. About eight o'clock for some unknown cause an alarm bell rang loudly and hurriedly. At the sound many people ran out of their houses, supposing it to be an alarm afire. But there were no flames to be seen, nor was there any smell of smoke in the clear frosty air, so that most of the townsmen went back to their own firesides. Others, who were younger and less prudent, remained in the streets. Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, several young men passed down King Street toward the Custom House. When they drew near the sentinel he halted on his post and took his musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet at their breasts. Who goes there? he cried in the gruff tone of a soldier's challenge. The young men, being Boston boys, felt as they had a right to walk in their own streets without being accountable to a British Redcoat. They made some rude answer to the sentinel. There was a dispute, or perhaps a scuffle. Other soldiers heard the noise and ran hastily from the barracks to assist their comrade. At the same time many of the townspeople rushed into King Street by various avenues and gathered in a crowd about the Custom House. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude had started up all of a sudden. The wrongs and insults which the people had been suffering for many months now kindled them into a rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the soldiers. As the tumult grew louder it reached the ears of Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd and pricking the townspeople with their bayonets. A gentleman, it was Henry Knox, afterwards general of the American artillery, caught Captain Preston's arm. For heaven's sake, sir, exclaimed he, take heed what you do, or there will be bloodshed. Stand aside," answered Captain Preston haughtily. Do not interfere, sir. Leave me to manage the affair. Arriving at the sentinels' post Captain Preston drew up his men in a semi-circle with their faces to the crowd. When the people saw the officer and beheld the threatening attitude with which the soldiers fronted them their rage became almost uncontrollable. Fire, you lobster-backs, bellowed some. You dare not fire, you cowardly redcoats, cried others. Rush upon them, shouted many voices, drive the rascals to their barracks, down with them, down with them. Let them fire if they dare. Amid the uproar the soldiers stood glaring at the people with the fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood. Oh, what a crisis had now arrived! Up to this very moment the angry feelings between England and America might have been pacified. England had but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation and acknowledge that she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but would do so no more. Then the ancient bonds of brotherhood would again have been knit together as firmly as in old times. But, should the king's soldiers shed one drop of American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. Never, never would America rest satisfied until she had torn down royal authority and trampled it in the dust. Fire if you dare, villains, hoarsely shouted the people, while the muzzles of the muskets were turned upon them. You dare not fire. They appeared ready to rush upon the levelled bayonets. Captain Preston waved his sword and uttered a command which could not be distinctly heard amid the uproar of shouts that issued from the hundred throats. But his soldiers deemed that he had spoken the fatal mandate. Fire. The flash of their muskets lighted up the street and the report rang loudly between the edifices. A gush of smoke spread the scene. It rose heavily as if it were loath to reveal the dreadful spectacle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New England lay stretched upon the street. Some sorely wounded were struggling to rise again. Others stirred not, nor groaned, for they were past all pain. Blood was streaming upon the snow and that purple stain in the midst of King Street, though it melted away in the sun, was never forgotten nor forgiven by the people. At once the bells were rung and the citizens rushing out to learn the cause hastened to the fight. The people in the country around, hearing the bells, hurried in with their muskets to help the town. At last the soldiers, seeing that the whole country around, was aroused with rushing to the rescue, took to flight. American History Stories. Volume 2 American History Stories. Volume 2. By Mara L. Pratt. Chapter 8. The Boston Tea Party This Boston Tea Party was a very different sort of a party from the quiet little tea parties to which your mamas liked to go. There were no invitations sent out for this tea party and the people who attended it behaved in a very queer way, considering they were at a tea party. This was the way it came about. The English had put a tax, you will remember, upon nearly everything, tea included. Now when they found that the colonists were so furious about it and seemed so determined to stand up for their rights, the English began to be afraid and to think that perhaps they had gone a little too far. So, wishing to sue the angry colonist, they took off the tax on everything except the tea. We would keep the tax on that, said the English, just to let the colonists know that we have the power to tax them and that they must obey, but we will not ask them to give us their money on other things. Foolish people, to suppose the colonists were going to be quieted in that way. It wasn't the money that they were made to pay that had angered them. They were willing to pay that, but it was the idea of their being taxed without representation. Does England suppose it is the few paltry dollars that we care for, said they? No, we will show her that, while we would be willing to pay thousands of dollars if we were treated fairly, we will not pay one cent when she treats us like slaves. Not many days had passed before word came that a great vessel was nearing the harbour, loaded with tea. A lively meeting was held in Fanuel Hall, and afterwards in the Old South Church, and the people all declared that the tea should never be allowed to be brought ashore. At the evening the vessel was seen slowly nearing the wharf. Everything was quiet, and you would never have imagined what was going to happen. Slowly the ship comes in, nearer and nearer the little wharf. Now with a heavy swash of water and a boom she touches. Out jump her sailors to fasten her ropes. But hark, what noise is that? It is the Indian war-whoop. And, see, down rush the Indians themselves, yelling and brandishing their tomahawks. In an instant they have boarded the vessel. Down into the hold they go, yelling and whooping at every step. The terrified sailors stand back aghast. Out they come again, lugging with them their heavy chests of tea. Still they yell and whoop, and overgo the chests into the dark water below. And now when every chest is gone suddenly the Indians grow very quiet. They come off from the deck, and orderly take their stand upon the wharf. Then do we see that they were not Indians at all. They were only men of Boston disguised. This then was the Boston Tea Party, which took place in Boston Harbor on the evening of December 16th, 1773. Three hundred and forty-two chests were thrown overboard. On their way home the party passed the house at which Admiral Monacue was spending the evening. The officer raised the window and cried out, Well, boys, you've had a fine night for your Indian caper, but, mind, you've got to pay the fiddler yet. Oh, never mind, replied one of the leaders, Never mind, squire, just come out here, if you please, and we'll settle the bill in two minutes. The Admiral thought it best to let the bill stand and quickly shut the window. The Americans had taken one great step towards liberty, and the English had been taught a lesson of American grit. It would have been well for England had she been wise enough to heed it. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LubriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt. Chapter 9 Words only to the song Revolutionary Tea Music may be found in the text. There was an old lady lived over the sea, and she was an island queen. Her daughter lived off in a new country 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. Now mother, dear mother, the daughter replied, I shan't do the thing you ask. I'm willing to pay a fair price for the tea, but never the three penny tax. You shall, quote 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. 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 family. She ordered her servants to bring home the tax 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 tax was conveyed to the daughter's door, all down by the ocean side. And the bouncing girl poured out every pound in the dark and boiling tide. And then she called out to the island queen, oh mother, dear mother, quote she, your tea you may have went tis steeped enough, but never a tax from me. No, never a tax from me. CHAPTER X There were some of the colonists who did not approve of this rebellion of the people against the king. Although they knew England had no right to do what she had done, still they dreaded quarrel. And since they were pretty comfortable, didn't care much whether England treated them as equals or as slaves. There were some too who had such great reverence for England and the king that they would have considered it an honour to have their ears pulled or their faces slapped if only it were done by a king's hand. These colonists, who believed in obeying the king, no matter what he demanded, were called Tories, while those colonists who were so ready to fight for freedom were called Wigs. I am afraid a great many of the Tories were persecuted in those days by the excited Wigs. There is a story told of a Boston barber, which will show you how bitterly the Wigs hated the Tories. A barber was shaving a customer one day, and at the same time earnestly talking politics with him. One side of the customer's face was nicely shaven, when, by something he said, the barber learned that the man was a Tory. Quick as a flash, the barber threw down his razor, clutched the man by the collar, and dragged him to the door. A Tory, a Tory, shouted the barber at the top of his voice. In less than a minute a crowd had gathered. A roar of laughter went up at sight of the unhappy Tory, his eyes glaring with rage and fright, his face all lathered, one side cleanly shaven, the other all rough with his bristling beard. Away ran the man, and after him ran the crowd, hooting and laughing and shouting, a Tory, a Tory. The crowd followed him from shop to shop. Until at last he found a barber who was himself a Tory, and who willingly rescued him from the mob and finished the shaving for the unfortunate man. This was a very mean act in the Wig barber, but it was showed you very well the spirit of the times. In the spring of 1775 General Gage was told that the Americans had for a long time been secretly carrying to some place outside of Boston stores of gunpowder, guns, muskets and bullets, that there might be a supply whenever they were needed. He also learned that in every town and village about Boston companies were being formed for military drill. These men call themselves minute men, because as they said they would be ready to enter battle against the British any time at a minute's notice. Gage began to watch these signs of fight on the part of the colonists. Into all the towns about he sent spies to learn all they could about these military stores and these minute men. Soon he learned that it was in the old town of Concord that the colonists were storing their ammunition. We will start out some dark night and capture those stores, said Gage. We will watch the British soldiers, said the Americans, and see that they do not start off in the night to capture our stores. The colonists would be asleep, said General Gage, and if we are quiet they will know nothing of our departure. We will keep our eyes on you, General Gage, said the colonist, night and day, for we suspect you would like to still our ammunition. But as General Gage did not hear the colonists say these words and had not yet learned that the colonists were fully as sharp as his own soldiers, he knew not that the sentinels were pacing back and forth all night long, watching him, and that messengers were standing ready with their strong horses to ride out into the outlying towns with the alarm, if the British troops were seen to show any signs of marching. At last, on the evening of April 18th, 1775, one of these sentinels heard sounds and saw a stirring among these messengers. Soon he saw them creep quietly down to the water and hurry into boats. There was no doubt now that the British were planning to cross the Charles River and set out for Concord. In twenty minutes two mounted horsemen were galloping away to rouse the farmers in all the towns around and warned them to be up and ready for fight. One of these messengers was Paul Revere, and as our own poet longfellow has told the story of his ride in a way that all readers, little ones and big ones, like to hear, I think that instead of trying to tell it to you myself, I better write you the story of Paul Revere's ride, just as longfellow himself told it. In the little town of Lexington, a hundred brave Minutemen awaited the coming of the British army. Of course there was no hope that a hundred farmer soldiers could drive back the large army, but they were ready to do what they could. Up came the redcoats with Major Pitcairn at their head. Disperse ye rebels, cried the Major. Disperse, throw down your arms and disperse. But the brave Minutemen stood their ground. They neither threw down their arms nor did they disperse. Then one of the British officers, angry that they should dare defy him, discharged his pistol into the little band. Now the Minutemen, who had been told not to fire until they were fired upon, promptly returned fire, wounding three of the British soldiers. This was answered by a fierce folly from the British, and when the army passed on, they left eight brave farmer soldiers dead upon the green. Then, on the troops marched straight to Concord, their band playing Yankee Doodle, a song which had been composed by them to deride the colonists. Play Yankee Doodle, you old lobster-backs, cried some boys from behind a fence, but look out, Lord Percy, that you don't play Chevy Chase when you come back. Now as it happens that Chevy Chase was an old song of a battle in which this very Lord Percy's ancestors had figured, and had been defeated, you can imagine the young officer didn't enjoy the boy's joke very well. Especially when some of his fellow officers, who could appreciate a good joke, even if they couldn't appreciate the courage of the colonists, joined in the laugh against him. On reaching Concord, the troops took possession of the ammunition, rolled a hundred barrels of flour into the river, and started on, intending to cross the bridge at Concord. But there they found the brave Minutemen mustered on the bridge, a hundred and fifty strong. Immediately the command to fire was given, and two of the Minutemen fell dead. Now there blazed back a volley from the little band, which compelled the British troops to fall back. From that moment the colonists had the best of the British troops. Another volley, and away went the redcoats, in full retreat back towards Lexington, the Minutemen in full pursuit. On, on, the redcoats ran, while from every house and barn, from behind every fence and bush, rang the quick snap of muskets, shooting down the redcoats at every step. On, on they ran, panting for breath, their tongues, so an English historian says, hanging out of their mouths, until they came into Lexington again. Here they were met by Lord Percy's troops. These troops formed a hollow square about them, and they, breathless and exhausted, sank upon the ground, too breathless even to tell what had happened. Lord Percy's troops thus closed about them, and led them, when they had gained strength enough to march again, back to Boston. But all the way they were pursued and shot at on all sides by the colonists concealed by the roadside, until they were glad indeed, at sunset, to get back under the protection of the guns of the British men of war. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of American History Stories Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 12 Paul Revere's Ride Listen, my children, and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. On the 18th of April in 75, hardly a man is now alive who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, if the British march by land or sea from the town tonight, hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch of the North Church Tower as a signal light, one if by land and two if by sea, and I on the opposite shore will be, ready to ride and spread the alarm through every Middlesex village and farm, for the country folk to be up and to arm. Then he said good night, and with muffled oar, silently rode to the Charlestown shore, just as the moon rose over the bay, where swinging wide at her moorings lay the summer-set British man of war, a phantom ship with each mast and spar across the moon like a prison-bar, and a huge black hawk that was magnified by its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile his friend, through alley and street, wonders and watches with eager ears. Till in the silence around him he hears, the muster of men at the barric door, the sounds of arms and the tramp of feet and the measured tread of the grenadiers marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed to the tower of the church, up the wooden stairs with stealthy tread, to the belfry chamber overhead, and startled the pigeons from their porch. On the somber rafters that round him made, masses and moving shapes of shade, up the light ladder slender and tall, to the highest window in the wall, where he paused to listen and look down, a moment on the roofs of the town, and the moonlight flowing over all. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, booted and spurred with a heavy stride, on the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he padded his horse's side, now he gazed at the landscape far and near. Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, and turned and tightened his saddle-gearth. But mostly he watched with eager search the belfry tower of the Old North Church, as it rose above the graves on the hill, lonely and spectral and somber and still. And lo, as he looks on the belfry's height, a glimmer and then a gleam of light. He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, but lingers and gazes till full on his sight a second lamp in the belfry burns. A hurry of hoofs in a village street, a shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, and beneath from the pebbles in passing, a spark struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet. That was all. And yet, through the gloom and the light, the fate of a nation was riding that night. It was twelve by the village clock when he crossed the bridge into Medford Town. He heard the crowing of the cock and the barking of the farmer's dog, and felt the damp of the river fog that rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock when he rode into Lexington. He saw the gilded weather cock swim in the moonlight as he passed, and the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, gazed at him with a spectral glare, as if they already stood aghast at the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock when he came to the bridge in Concord Town. He heard the bleeding of the flock and the twitter of the birds among the trees, and felt the breath of the morning breeze blowing over the meadows brown. So through the night rode Paul Revere, and so through the night went his cry of alarm to every Middlesex village and farm, a cry of defiance and not of fear, a voice in the darkness a knock at the door, and a word that shall echo for ever more. Forborn on the night wind of the past, through all our history to the last, in the hour of darkness and peril and need, the people will waken and listen to hear the hurrying hoof beats of that steed and the midnight message of Paul Revere. CHAPTER XIII. By Mara L. Pratt. CHAPTER XIII. Words only to the song, The Origin of Yankee Doodle. Music may be found in the text. Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury and said that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury, that no election should be held across the briny waters. And now, said he, I'll tax the tea of all his sons and daughters. Then down he sat in Burleigh State and blustered like a grandee, and in the derision made a tune called Yankee Doodle Dandy. Yankee Doodle Dandy. These are facts. Yankee Doodle Dandy. My son of wax, your tea, I'll tax. Yankee Doodle Dandy. John sent the tea from over the sea with heavy duties rated. But whether Heisen or Bohi, I never heard it stated. Then Jonathan to Pout began. He laid a strong embargo. I'll drink no tea by Jove, so he threw over board the cargo. Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to Bandy, whose marshal banned when near the land played Yankee Doodle Dandy. Yankee Doodle, keep it up, Yankee Doodle Dandy. I'll poison with a tax your cup, Yankee Doodle Dandy. A long war then they had, in which John was at last defeated, and Yankee Doodle was the march to which his troop retreated. Cute Jonathan to see them fly could not restrain his laughter. That tune said he suits to a tea. I'll sing it ever after. With Hale Columbia it is sung, and chorus full and hardy. On land and main we breathe the strain, John made for his tea party. Yankee Doodle Ho Ha Hee. Yankee Doodle Dandy. We kept the tune, but not the tea. Yankee Doodle Dandy. No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy. And where's the fare can't sing the air of Yankee Doodle Dandy. Yankee Doodle, firm and true. Yankee Doodle Dandy. Yankee Doodle Doodle Do. Yankee Doodle Dandy. End of Chapter 13. Chapter 14 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 By Mara L. Pratt. Chapter 14 The Women at Lexington But what do you suppose the women of Lexington and Concord were doing all this time? They were not idle, you may be sure. Every bit of pewter that could be found. Old pewter teapots and sugar bowls, pewter spoons, many of which were old heirlooms, and were therefore very dear to these women's hearts. All were melted and made into shot. Their very dresses they tore into pieces to furnish wadding for the muskets. And on all sides might the women have been seen loading and reloading the muskets that drove back the British troops. One woman, Dame Batherick, had taken her musket and gone down into the field to work. Being a lone woman, she had heard nothing of the morning fray and had as usual gone out to work upon her farm. As the British came fleeing back from Concord, Dame Batherick heard the guns and whistling balls. Pausing in her work and screening her eyes from the sun, she eagerly gazed across the fields towards the village. Near and near came the sound of battle. She saw the village blaze. She heard the shouts of the soldiers. Tiss wore, she cried, war and blood and fire. Seizing her musket she started forward. Just then a squad of redcoats broke through the bush full upon her sight. In an instant her quick woman's wit took in the whole situation. Drawing herself proudly up, her eyes flashing fire, she cried, haught, as ye value life, advance ye not another step. Ye are my prisoner, sirs, march on, she said. Then dropped her plants and pointing out to them the way. She drove them quickly on, as she had off to head, driven the kind across the fields at set of day. And they, King George's own, without a word obeyed. Over the fields so green she marched her captive band, her dark eyes flashing still, her proud heart beating high, at thought of England's outrage on her native land. For women were true patriots in the days gone by, and scorned the foreign yoke, the proud oppressor's hand. And thus this rustic dame her captive safe did bring, unto a neighbor's house, and speaking fearless then, in words whose every tone with woman's scorn did ring, she said unto King George's brave and stalwart men, go tell the story of your capture to your king. He cannot crush our rights beneath his royal hand, with dastards such as you, and ere this war be done, we'll teach old England's boasting red-coat band, we're not a race of slaves, from mother, sire, to son. There's not a coward breathes in all our native land. Thus mother Batherick's fearless deed was done. Long will the tale be told in famed historic page, how in this first great victory a free men won, a dame with furrowed brow, and tresses white with age, captured the grenadiers at famous Lexington. After this battle of Lexington a continental congress met in Philadelphia to talk over this battle, and to decide what was to be done. War must follow, of this they all felt sure. And so troops must be raised, a leader appointed, and some plan of action be agreed upon. It was at this time that George Washington was appointed, commander in chief of all the forces raised, or to be raised in defense of American liberties. The news of the battle had been carried throughout the colonies, and in every town the women were knitting and spinning clothes for their husbands and brothers and sons, and making all preparation for war. The men were drilling and forming themselves into companies, ready to march to Boston at the first word of command. In Vermont, called in your geographies you remember, the Green Mountain State, the men had formed themselves into a company under their colonel, Ethan Allen, and called themselves the Green Mountain Boys. On the morning of the very day of the meeting of this congress, which had made Washington commander in chief, Ethan Allen, with the detachment of these volunteers, set out to surprise Fort to Condoroga. Arriving there in the early gray of the morning, he found all but the sentries sound asleep. Suddenly, that no time might be given for an alarm, Allen's band rushed into the fort, and making their way directly to the sleeping apartments of the commander, Allen, in a voice like thunder, so his followers say, demanded the instant surrender of the fort. The commander frightened and only half-dressed threw open his door, saying, By whose authority do you? But Allen broke in upon him with, In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress do I command you to surrender. No resistance was attempted, and so a large quantity of cannon and ammunition which the English had stored there, and which just then was so much needed by the troops at Boston, fell into the hands of the Americans without the loss of a single man. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 16 Battle of Bunker Hill Great indeed was the excitement throughout the colonies when the news of the Battle of Lexington was carried from town to town. Meetings were called in every town. Congresses were held, armies formed. For everyone knew now that war had indeed begun. Soon some fifteen thousand men collected from the different colonies about Boston, and these succeeded in giving General Gage a good scare. All this time the King of England and his counselors were fretting and fuming because of the obstinacy of the American colonists. They sent over more troops, and when General Gage heard of their arrival he began to grow brave again. He sent out a proclamation, saying that if the colonists would lay down their guns and say they were sorry, he would see that the Government of England forgave them and received them into English favour again. All but Samuel Adams and John Hancock. Those two men, he said, were past forgiveness and ought rather to be hanged. It is needless to say that the colonists were not at all moved by General Gage's generous offer of forgiveness. They kept straight on about their plans. On the 16th of June a detachment of the American soldiers outside of Boston was commanded to go over to Charlestown and fortify Bunker Hill. Under the cover of darkness the soldiers climbed Breeds Hill, this being nearer Boston, and quietly threw up the earth in such a way as to form ditches and forts. Imagine the surprise of the British the next morning when they looked across the water and found the Americans working away, busy as bees, finishing up their night's work. The British cannon were turned upon them, but in vain. We must march up the hill ourselves, said General Howe. And soon three thousand soldiers were on the way to attack the Americans. Eagerly the soldiers watched from behind their embankment, eagerly the British troops in Boston watched, and eagerly watched the women and children from the housetops. Oh, it was a terrible day for dear old Boston. Up the hill climbed the British soldiers, firing at every step. At the top, behind the embankment, crouched the brave fifteen hundred, silent as death. Boys, said good Colonel Prescott, we have no powder to waste. Aim low, and don't fire until you can see the whites of their eyes. And so, I suppose, the British, receiving no shots as they climbed the hill, thought they were going to climb straight over the entrenchments into the American quarters. But as we know, these Americans had other plans. The Redcoats were nearly up the hill. Their waving plumes were nearly on a level with the hilltop. Fire, commanded the officer. Bang, bang, bang, bang, went the fifteen hundred muskets. The British soldiers fell, mowed down like the grain before the scythe. Then on they came again. Again, bang, bang, bang, went the fifteen hundred muskets. And again the British fell back in dismay. It was a long time before they made their third attack. And the hearts of the brave men within the entrenchment, and the brave women praying from the housetops, beat high in the hope that the battle was over. But soon the British forces rallied, and made one mighty rush over the dead bodies of their fallen brothers upon the entrenchment. The Americans were now, many of them, without powder. And although they battled hand to hand with clubs and stones, the British reached the summit, and drove the Americans down the hill to Charlestown Neck. This was the first regular battle of the Revolution. And although the Americans were defeated, still the defeat brought about so many good results, that after all, perhaps it was quite as good as a victory. For it showed the British soldiers and the British king that the colonists were not to be subdued by simple threats. While on the other hand it fired the colonists with courage and zeal, they knew now that there was no escape from war. They had learned that, untrained though they were, they could fight even the British regulars. They knew that, had their ammunition not given out, the day would have been theirs. And so, although they had lost some of their bravest men, and although they had been defeated, there was no feeling of discouragement in the hearts of the colonists. CHAPTER 17 We must not leave the story of the battle of Bunker Hill without speaking of the brave General Warren. He was indeed one of the bravest of the brave. He was a man of wonderful talent, and from the very earliest troubles with England had been one of the staunchest patriots. When he learned that the British were setting out to attack the colonists on Breeds Hill, he started out at once across Charlestown Neck, amid showers of British balls, and on reaching the redoubt offered himself as a volunteer. The poet makes him say to the colonists, as the British draw near, Stand! The ground's your own, my braves. Will you give it up to slaves? Will you look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle-peel? Read it on yon bristling still. Ask it, ye who will. In the God of battles trust. Die we may, and die we must. But, oh, where can dust to dust be consigned so well? As where heaven its dew shall shed, On the martyred Patriots' bed, And the rocks shall raise their head, Of his deeds to tell. Throughout the battle, Warren was in the thickest of the fight, and at the end, when the British had gained the redoubt, he was one of the last to give up the struggle. He was rallying the few remaining colonists when a British officer who knew him, and knew what a power he was among his countrymen singled him out and shot him. When General Gage heard that Warren was dead, he said, It is well, that one man was equal to five hundred ordinary soldiers. He had been an honourable citizen, a skilled physician, a noble senator, and a brave warrior. The loss of no one man in the whole war was more and more perhaps the loss of this hero, General Warren. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 18 The March to Quebec In 1775, the Americans began looking longingly towards Canada. Ever since the success at Ticonderoga, Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold had been saying, Send us to Montreal and Quebec. Let us take them as we took Crown Point and Ticonderoga. Washington knew what a grand thing it would be for the American Army to get possession of these cities, but he also knew something which very few beside himself knew, and that was that the American Army had not enough powder to carry on their work until they were much longer unless help came. For this reason he held back some time. Many officers and soldiers heaped abuse upon Washington's head for this, and nearly accused him of being cowardly. He endured their blame, however, for he dared not let it be known how low the powder supply was growing. Finally, in the early fall two armies were ordered into Canada, one under General Montgomery, the other under Benedict Arnold. General Montgomery led his division up through New York and down the St. Lawrence to Montreal, while Benedict Arnold led his division up through Maine. Montgomery soldiers were a wretched looking set, ragged and dirty, shoeless and hatless, but still willing to march on and fight for their loved country. On reaching Montreal they found that the British soldiers had been all called into the colonies and that the city was therefore without defence. Of course the city was taken with little or no trouble, and in the army marched. It is a terrible thing to ransack a city as this army ransacked Montreal, but as long as wars go on these things must be done. And since it has to be done here we cannot but be glad that it was our own brave men who fell upon the ridges of this city. Such treasures as they did find. Not so much money, but food and clothing, blankets and warm shirts, jackets and trousers, stockings and shoes. They thought it almost worthwhile to have marched all this distance just to be once more warmed and clothed and fed. They remembered too the other soldiers who were coming up through Maine and would soon be with them, and they carried off enough with them as well. Montgomery, leaving a part of his soldiers to hold Montreal, now marched on to Quebec where Arnold was to join forces with him. When Arnold came he had a terrible story to tell. Their march up through Maine had been almost as terrible as the winter at Valley Forge, of which you will read later on. The army had come up the Kennebac River in boats, and when they had come to places where they could not push along their boats they had carried them on their backs until open places again were found. It had been so bitterly cold. They had marched waist deep through icy water and had lain down in their wet clothing night after night in the freezing forests. Their clothes ragged enough when they set out could now hardly be kept together. Their shoes in this five hundred mile march had been worn to nothing and many a soldier had frozen his feet. Their provisions too had given out and many of the soldiers had eaten the leather of their shoes and knapsacks so hungry were they. Many of these poor men overcome by starvation and sickness had turned back discouraged. Some of them afterwards succeeded in getting back to Massachusetts but more died lost in the forests. Arnold had with him a brave young man named Aaron Burr who acted the part of a hero in this terrible march and in the attack that followed. When Montreal was reached Burr started on another hundred miles to tell Montgomery that Arnold's forces were ready to join him in the attack on Quebec. It was now December, the last day of the year. A severe snowstorm was raging, a real blizzard we should call it now and in the very midst of it the command came for the attack upon Quebec. Now there were very few soldiers in the city and it would have been a very easy thing to take this city as easy as it had been to take Montreal. Only that this city was a walled city and more than that it was situated high up on bluffs or cliffs overlooking the river. You can see how hard it was for the army outside to get up to this city and how easy it was for the army within the city to sweep them down with their fire. A terrible, almost hand-to-hand battle followed. One battery had been taken by the Americans and they were just attacking the second. Follow me, my brave boys, called Montgomery, and Quebec is ours. But just then down came a volley of grapeshot from the garrison above striking dead this brave leader and mowing down the soldiers on every side of him. Dismayed at the loss of their leader the men in the rear turned and fled and Quebec was lost to our side. When young Aaron Burr, who was standing beside Montgomery in the foremost ranks, saw his leader wounded he caught up the falling body and staggering under the load dragged it down the bluffs beyond the reach of the fire of the enemy. Arnold remained for some time in Canada hoping to find a chance to attack the city again. But the soldiers in the city were on the watch and before very long British soldiers arrived to help them. Then there seemed nothing for him to do but to march home with the broken army and so to leave Canada to the British. End of Chapter 18 Chapter 19 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Now that the war had really begun events followed upon each other thick and fast. Before the summer was over every colony from New Hampshire to Georgia was up in arms. Washington had gathered his army outside of Boston and there he held General Gage imprisoned in the city. Washington had now several good generals to help him one of whom, called Old Putt, was famed far and wide for his pluck. In another chapter you will read about Old Putt's wolfhound a story you must know for although it is not exactly a story of the Revolution still it does no harm to know any story of the heroes of the Revolution that tells of the daring courage of these men. But we were speaking of Washington's army in A History of Our Country written by Abbey Sage Richardson is the following excellent description of the appearance of the colonial army. You can form no idea what a task lay before Washington and his generals. Here was a great body of men hurried into the field from farms and workshops with no more idea of military drill than a herd of sheep with miserable old muskets, scanty supply of powder and balls and no money to buy any. Then the dress of this provincial army was enough to excite the laugh which the British soldiers raised at them. Some of them were dressed in the long-tailed Lindsay Woolsey coats and Lindsay Woolsey breeches which had been spun and woven in farmhouse kitchens. Some were smocked frocks like a butcher also made of home-spun. Some were suits of British broadcloth so long used for Sunday clothes that they had grown rather the worse for the wear and every variety of dress and fashion figured in these motley ranks. When General Washington rode grandly out on horseback dressed in his fine blue broadcloth coat with buff-colored facings, buff waistcoat and breeches, a hat with black cockade and a sword in an elegantly embroidered sword-belt I think his heart must have sunk within him as he looked at his tattered Amalian army and then glanced over towards Boston and thought of the British soldiers gorgeous in their elegant new uniforms trained to march up to the cannon's mouth like a solid wall in motion. But for all that Washington knew that his army was brave and in dead earnest for were they not fighting for their own homes, their own mothers and wives and children, two brothers in Washington's army to show what skillful marksmen they were took aboard only five inches wide and seven inches long, fastened a piece of white paper the size of a dollar upon it in the middle and then shot it at a distance of sixty yards. Eight bullets they fired and every one of them went straight through the white paper. When the looker's own wondered at them, they said there are fifty more men in our company who can do just as well. They then offered to shoot apples off each other's heads as William Tell is said to have done long, long ago. But their commander said that they had shown their comrades that they could, beyond a doubt, send a bullet straight through the heart of a British soldier and that now they had better save their powder till a British soldier appeared. And so you see that although these men were so oddly dressed and although they knew so little of military training yet they had clear heads and straight eyes and above all dauntless courage. End of Chapter 19 Chapter 20 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 20 The Red Coats Leave Boston All this time you remember Washington's army had kept the British imprisoned in the city. They had been unable to get out into the country for provisions and now they were in real danger of starvation. They were short of fuel, too. They had already chopped down several wooden houses and had even been mean enough to chop down the old North Church for firewood. These cowardly soldiers knew that these simple-hearted Puritans loved their meeting-houses as they loved their homes and so they took great delight in showing all the contempt they could for these places. They liked nothing better than to break the glass and shoot into the windows as they passed along. The old South Church, which the Boston children know and which still stands on Washington Street, was turned into a writing school. The pews were torn out and the floor strewed with litter for the horses. One of the pews in this church, a very beautifully carved pew, they carried away to build a fence for a pig-pen. I could not begin to tell you of the needlessly cruel and insulting things these redcoats did to annoy the people of Boston. Faneuil Hall, now called the Cradle of Liberty because throughout the history of Boston so many Liberty meetings of all sorts have been held there, was made into a theatre. And there the British army used to delight to meet and listen to plays and songs which were sure to be full of jokes on the American colonists. At one time the British were acting a play which they had named the Blockade of Boston. And this play was an actor intended to represent George Washington. He was dressed in some ridiculous manner, wore a funny-looking wig and carried a rusty old sword. Just as this character was coming upon the stage, another clownish-looking figure with another big rusty sword by his side, an officer rushed upon the stage crying, the Yankees are attacking our works on Bunker Hill. At first the people thought it was part of the play, but when General Howe ordered, officers to your posts, they began to realize that the play had indeed come to a sudden end. I fancy the hall was cleared quickly indeed and it was not many days before the British troop found that Washington's sword was not so rusty as they had thought. At any rate it was able to flash an idea into the British general's eye which made him think it worthwhile, not many days later, to take himself and his troops out of the town. At last the provisions had run so low it seemed to General Howe, who was then in command that the best thing to do was to leave the city while there was a chance. In 2002 Washington had begun to fortify Dorchester Heights and General Howe feared that soon his escape would be cut off. And so after stealing all the blankets and woolen and linen in the city after spiking their cannon and throwing it into the harbor, doing in short all the mischief they could they marched away from the city of Boston and even as they marched out they scattered all about the entrance to the city with sharp points sticking out in all directions. These irons were called crow's feet and they scattered them about that the colonists when they entered the city might tread upon them and so disable their feet. The people of Boston had been shut in all this time with the British and the disloyal Tories and you can imagine how glad they were when they saw Washington marching in at the head of his army. End of Chapter 20 Chapter 21 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt, Chapter 21 Declaration of Independence At the beginning of the war the colonists had not expected to be free from British rule. Indeed they did not wish to be. All they did ask was that they might be treated fairly but since they had begun to fight they grew more and more convinced that now nothing less than perfect independence of the mother country ought to satisfy them. Then the leading men of the colonies met together at Philadelphia to draw up a writing in which they declared themselves no longer subject to English rule. Five men, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Roger Sherman and Robert Livingston were appointed to write it out and when this was done every man in the Congress signed it. It had been agreed that as soon as the declaration was adopted the old bell men should ring the big Liberty Bell that hung in the tower of the old State House in order that the great throng of people outside might know it. This, as I suppose you all know, happened July 4th, 1776. The old bell men had taken his place up in the tower and had told his little grandson to tell him when the time came to ring the bell. Messengers were sent in every direction to tell the news in every village and town. The boys lit fires, the cannons blazed and everywhere the people, men, women and children tried in every way to show their joy that they were now all to stand shoulder to shoulder, a free nation. Ask your teacher to let you learn the poem about the bell ringing of that day to read in concert and if you are one half as patriotic as the boys and girls then were I'm sure you'll read it in such a way that the teacher will think Independence Day has come again. There was tumult in the city in the quaint old Quaker town and the streets were rife with people pacing restless up and down. People gathering at corners where they whispered each to each and the sweat stood on their temples with the earnestness of speech. Will they do it? Dare they do it? Who is speaking? What's the news? What of Adams? What of Sherman? Oh God! Grant they won't refuse. Make some way there. Let me nearer. I am stifling. Stifle then. When a nation's life at hazard we've no time to think of men. So they beat against the portal man and woman, made and child and the July sun in heaven on the scene looked down and smiled. The same sun that saw the Spartan shed his patriot blood in vain now beheld the soul of freedom all unconquered rise again. See, see, the dense crowd quivers through all its lengthy line as the boy beside the portal looks forth to give the sign with his small hands upward lifted breezes dallying with his hair hark with deep clear intonation breaks his young voice on the air hushed the people's swelling murmur list the boy's exultant cry ring he shouts ring grandpa ring oh ring for liberty and straight way at the signal the old bellman lifts his hand and sends the good news making iron music through the land how they shouted what rejoicing how the old bell shook the air till the clang of freedom ruffled the calm gliding Delaware how the bonfires and the torches illumined the night's repose and from the flames that fabled Phoenix our glorious liberty arose that old bell now is silent and hushed its iron tongue but the spirit is awakened still lives forever young and when we greet the smiling sunlight on the fourth of each July we'll never forget the bellman who betwixt the earth and sky rang out our independence which please God shall never die End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 22 The History of Our Flag The old British flag which had once been so dear to the colonists in which they now so hated was pulled down from every place and the new American flag hoisted in its place for the colonists had long ago learned that no peace with England was possible they had once offered a petition to the king in which they had asked that peace might be restored on certain conditions this petition the king would not even hear read and so the colonists had long known that their only hope lay in face-to-face battle with the English troops and now that they had declared their independence of England surely they would no longer bear an English flag at the beginning of the war there had been in use a variety of flags one of the very first was the pine tree flag this was used first in the Massachusetts colony it had a white ground, a tree in the middle and the motto, appeal to heaven next a flag was made having upon it thirteen stripes of red and white to represent the thirteen colonies it had however the British Union Jack as it was called in the corner but when the Declaration of Independence came then said the colonists we must have a truly American flag for now we are the American nation Congress voted June 17, 1777 that the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes alternate red and white and the Union be thirteen white stars in the blue field the first truly American flag was hoisted by Paul Jones over an American ship of war this flag was made by Philadelphia women and I am sure that they must have been proud to have done their part in the raising of the first American flag it was intended that as time went on and the country grew a new stripe should be added for each new state but later when the growth of the country caused the flag to become too wide it was decided to return to the thirteen original stripes and let a new star be added for each new state and thus it is that our flag today shows thirteen stripes of red and white while in it's blue field where the Union Jack used to stand are what little boy or girl can tell me how many stars there are on the flag today End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 23 Words only to the song The Star-Spangled Banner Music may be found in the text I'll say can you see by the dawn's early light what so proudly we hailed the twilight's last gleaming whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight o'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming and the rocket's red glare the bombs bursting in air gave proof through the night that our flag was still there O say does the star-spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave o'er the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes what is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep as it fitfully blows half conceals, half discloses now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam in full glory reflected now shines on the stream tis the star-spangled banner o' long may it wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave o'er thus to be it ever when free men shall stand between their loved home and foul wars desolation blessed with victory and peace may the heaven's rescued land praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation then conquer we must when our cause is so just and this be our motto in God is our trust and the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 24 Words only to the song Our Flag is There Music may be found in the text Our flag is there Our flag is there We'll hail it with three loud husses Our flag is there Our flag is there Behold the glorious stripes and stars Stout hearts have fought for that bright flag Strong hands sustained it Mast head high and oh to see how proud it waves brings tears of joy in every eye That flag withstood the battle's roar with foment stout with foment brave strong hands have sought that flag to lower and found a speedy watery grave that flag is known on every shore the standard of a gallant band alike unstained in peace or war it floats o'er freedom's happy land End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 of American History Stories Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain American History Stories Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 25 A Petty Tyrant In the early days of the Revolution there was a British officer General Prescott stationed at Newport Although his name was the same he was a very different man He was a mean sort of a man and seemed to think that frightening children and threatening women were quite brave things to do He demanded that every man who met him should take off his hat to him as he passed As the people of Newport were entirely at his mercy many of them obeyed him One day a good old Quaker came along Take off that hat, shouted Prescott I take off my hat to no man said the Quaker Knock off that old fool's hat said Prescott to one of his companions and threatening and swearing Prescott passed on resolved to get his revenge in some way on the Quaker He could think of nothing that would grieve the old man more than to take away from him a pair of horses of which he was very fond Beautiful black horses they were as gentle and loving with the old Quaker as kittens The very next morning Prescott sent a detachment of soldiers to take these horses Of course there was nothing to do but to give them up Whatever the cruel general did with them was never known But that afternoon the good old Quaker found one lying by the roadside dying The old man knelt down beside him took his head into his lap sobbing like a child over his forefooted friend The poor horse tried to lift his head looking to his old master's face and with one great shutter dropped back dead At another time this Prescott wanted a sidewalk in front of his house and so instead of going to work to collect the stones honestly and build his sidewalk he ordered his men to take up the doorsteps of the houses in the neighborhood and build one for him The people of Newport declared they would endure him no longer and so one night Colonel Barton of the Patriots of Newport planned to surprise the general and take him prisoner Prescott was then staying at the house of a Quaker a little outside of the town quietly they crept up to the house and entered Where is Prescott's room? said Barton to the Quaker The Quaker pointed directly overhead and up the stairs they dashed a little negro boy Jack who hated the general well leading the way Bang went the tough little woolly head of Jack against the door of the chamber and open it flew Prescott sprang up in bed as they entered and there was no chance for escape His aid in another room hearing the noise jumped out of the window to give the alarm but was instantly captured by the men below Barton ordered the general to rise and go with them He begged for time to dress but delay was dangerous Throwing a cloak about him they took him in his shirt telling him that on the other side of the bay he would have time to dress at his leisure The rest of the party who had remained on guard outside formed around the prisoners and as stealthily as they came they made their way back to the boats Once again with muffled oars they passed by the frigates the men chuggling to themselves as they heard the centuries cry of all's well angry they would be when a little later they learned that all was ill he was carried to Washington's camp and made a prisoner it is said that while on the way to Washington he was so rude to the wife of a Connecticut innkeeper that her husband gave him a sound horse whipping End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 of American History Stories Volume 2 This Slippervox recording is in the public domain American History Stories Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 26 The Ledin Statue There had been so much resistance to the Stamp Act before the Revolution that England repealed it not long after The colonists were overjoyed at the news because they thought it meant that the English king had decided to deal fairly with the colonists in the future The Sons of Liberty in New York City in the success of joy cast a Ledin statue of the king and set it up in the bowling green Hardly was it in place when news came that the English government had passed another law more unjust if possible than the Stamp Act and that they were going to send troops over to take possession of the harbors of the principal cities and when in the following spring troops stationed themselves on Staten Island the fury of the Sons of Liberty knew no bounds Then, when at last came the Declaration of Independence read to them by Washington himself they thronged through the streets shouting, liberty, liberty down with the statue of England's king cried one and in an instant the air rang with the cries of down with the statue down with the king rushing to the green they tore it down dancing like wild Indians they hacked it in pieces give us the lead cried a daughter of liberty and we women will make it into bullets to shoot these British tyrants yes, yes cried the mob give the lead to the daughters of liberty and so the daughters of liberty without so much noise perhaps but with just as much patriotism went to work making the lead up into bullets said that the names of the women who made the largest number were placed on record report says that Mrs. Marvin made 6058 Laura Marvin, 8,370 Mary Marvin 10,790 and Ruth Marvin 11,592 End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 27 Free and Equal When the affair known as the Boston Tea Party occurred Cynthia Smith was five years old her home was in Charleston and she helped in many ways when her father sent all his rice to the north as he was obliged to because England had shut up our harbor by what is known as the Boston Port Bill. Two years later she saw with aching heart four of her brothers go to war and eager to help the cause she learned in time to spin to weave and to knit for the brave soldiers. The only pleasure she had was with a pretty red and white calf that her father had given her and when the Declaration of Independence was signed she named her pet Free and Equal Through all the dreary days and months which followed Cynthia grew more and more fond of her friend. Still she longed to go herself and fight for her country. Finally her father and one remaining brother left home to join General Gates army. During this time great damage was done to the southern homes by the British soldiers. Cynthia was ready to protect her home and mother come what might but one day on returning home from an errand she was dismayed to find that the British soldiers had carried off Free and Equal. It did not take long however for Cynthia to decide what she would do. Off she started at once for the headquarters of Lord Cornwallis. Hurrying over three miles of hot dusty road she gained entrance to the great general's room. A feast was being held just then but once in his presence it would not do to give up. So summoning all her courage she told him that his soldiers had stolen her cow and that she had come to take her back again. Lord Cornwallis was much attracted towards the sturdy little rebel as he called her and promised to have Free and Equal return to her at once. Before the little girl went back home with her pet the general patted her on the head told her she was a brave little woman and gave her a pair of silver knee buckles. These buckles are still in the hands of the descendants of Cynthia Smith and they are, and justly too, very proud of them and of their grandmother once the little Cynthia. End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 28 An Anecdote of Washington During the Revolution George Washington was one day riding by a group of soldiers who did not know him. They were busily engaged in raising a beam to the top of some military works. It was a difficult task and often the corporal's voice could be heard shouting Now you have it, already, pull! Washington quietly asked the corporal why he didn't turn to and helped them. Sir, angrily replied the corporal, do you realize that I am the corporal? Washington politely raised his hat, saying, I did not realize it. Beg pardon, Mr. Corporal. Then dismounting he himself fell to work and helped the men till the beam was raised. Before leaving he turned to the corporal and wiping the perspiration from his face said, If ever you need assistance like this again, call upon Washington, your commander-in-chief, and I will come. The confused corporal turned red, then white, as he realized that this was Washington himself to whom he had been so pompous, and we hope he learned a lesson of true greatness. End of Chapter 28 Chapter 29 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 29 Lydia Dara Saves General Washington At one time General Washington was very near being attacked by the British Army, and his army would very likely have been totally destroyed, had not a brave Quaker woman, Lydia Dara risked her life to warn him of his danger. One night one of the British officers who was stationed in her house ordered her to see that her family were a bed and asleep at a certain hour, and to admit General Howe very quietly show him to the officer's apartment and be ready to let him out just as quietly when he should be ready to go. Lydia was suspicious. She felt that some treachery was on foot. So when General Howe was safely in his officer's apartment she took off her shoes, crept softly upstairs and listened at the keyhole. There she heard them plan to surprise Washington and take him and his whole army. When she had heard enough she went trembling to bed and was apparently so sound asleep that the officer had to knock again and again when he came to rouse her to let General Howe out of the house. Next day good Mrs. Dara got a pass from General Howe to go to mill and get some flour-ground outside the lines of the army in Philadelphia. Off she walked with a bag of weed in her arms to the outpost of the Patriot army twenty-five miles away. Meeting an officer there she told her story and begged the Americans to put Washington at once on his guard. When Howe's army marched toward White Marsh with the greatest secrecy they found such excellent preparations with them that they turned round and marched back again without striking a blow. The officer questioned Mrs. Dara were any of your family awake the night General Howe was here? Not a soul, she answered. Then the walls of this house must have heard our plans, he said for someone reported them to the Rebel Washington. When we got to White Marsh he was all ready for us and we had the pleasure of marching back to the parcel of fools. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This lip-revox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 30 Washington's Christmas Surprise School and Concert All hail thou blessed Christmas time when Joy Bells ring their merry chime of gifts and sweet surprise of smiling lips and beaming eyes. Pupil enters and recites the following Not enough of Christmas joys without a Christmas story, boys? Me thinks I've just the one for you and what is better still, tis true. Then lend your ears and bright young eyes while I recount the grand surprise of Washington's long years ago amid the winter's cold and snow. Twas in our country's stern old fight for independence and the right. Within your minds the date well fixed Twas Christmas night of seventy-six. Our army, footsore, weary, sad in numbers few, ill-fed, ill-clad and fearing much the English foe were spending days in want and woe. The Hessian camp was all aglow and freely there the white wines flow. Their caution on this Christmas night and revelings had taken flight. To Washington was known the way the Germans off spent Christmas day and so while they were free from cares he planned to take them unawares. The Delaware between them rolled the night was stormy, dark and cold. The floating ice blocked up their way but on they pressed and morning gray beheld them on the Trenton side hard spent but filled with honest pride. Then on the Hessian camp they fell a thousand prisoners taken all. With booty, prisoners and all they follow at their leader's call. Again they crossed the river white and reached the Pennsylvania side. Voice. A brilliant act, a brilliant thought and one with mighty issues fought and unto Washington so wise were debtors for that grand surprise. Voice. A record of that daring deed just in his country's hour of need will ever live in song and fame while lives the hero's honored name and memory keeps in pictures rare that crossing on the Delaware. All. When Christmas fires send out their glow across the pure untrodden snow let thought go back to that far time when rang the bells no merry chime but one brave heart Neath wintry skies planned out this Christmas day's surprise. Ms. Lizzie Stanley. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 of American History Stories, Volume 2. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt. Chapter 31 Washington's Christmas Gift to the American Army. Washington's army had for some time had nothing but defeat. This, of course, was very encouraging to the British side. There were only about three thousand men with him and these were suffering from cold and hunger. Washington felt that a bold stroke must be made and that too very soon. He knew that there were encamped just across the Delaware a body of Hessian troops who had been hired and sent over here by the English government to fight against the colonists. Washington knew the ways of these Hessians and he was quite sure that they would spend Christmas Day in a great celebration and very likely would be off-guard in the evening. It was a terrible night. The sleet and rain were pouring down. It was bitterly cold and the river was so full of broken ice that in the inky darkness it seemed almost impossible to get across. But Washington was brave. His soldiers believed in him and so they struggled on. It was four o'clock in the morning when the last boatload of men reached the Trenton shore. They crept silently along the bank to where the Hessians lay, tired out with Christmas revelry and thus burst suddenly upon their unsuspecting enemy. It was a glorious victory. Hessians were captured almost before they could rub their eyes open. Washington lost hardly ten men in all and captured almost 1,000 Hessians besides cannon, guns and ammunition. The Hessians were sent off for winter quarters into Central Pennsylvania where they found many German settlers who treated them kindly and spoke their own language. They had a very comfortable time there and always spoke of Washington as a very good rebel and so ended with a success at last the year of 1776 which had for some months looked so dark and dismal to the American Army. End of Chapter 31 Chapter 32 of American History Stories, Volume 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories, Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt Chapter 32 Valley Forge All through the winter of 1777 and 78 the British and the American armies lay only 20 miles apart. The Redcoats with their commander General Howe were quartered in Philadelphia. There they were entertained by the Tories who gave parties and balls and dinners and did all in their power to make the winter a pleasant one for these British soldiers. Twenty miles away in a rocky desolate mountain gorge known as Valley Forge, Washington had led his army from White Marsh. When he went there in bitter December weather his men, shoeless and almost naked, had marked their way with blood from their bare feet. They reached the valley and for one of tents were obliged to cut down trees and build huts of logs for shelter from the cold. Congress had no money to pay the men, no money to buy them food. For days and days together during this winter they had no bread and lived upon salt-pork alone. They sickened with hunger and cold and there was no money to buy medicines, no comfortable hospitals where they could be nursed. They were ragged and without shoes. It was a terrible winter for them all. Washington's brave heart ached and sometimes was very heavy as he saw his men starving and freezing and dying. It seemed almost as if the cause of the colonists must be given up. But you have heard the saying that it is always darkest just before day. And so it proved, just now. For in the spring word came from France that aid was to be sent from that country. When the British heard this they would have been very glad to make peace with the colonists. Indeed, messengers were sent over from England with very liberal offers. Offers which, before the war, the colonists would have accepted. But that time was passed now. Then these messengers tried to bribe some of the officers in the Patriot Army. One man, General Reed of Pennsylvania, was offered ten thousand guineas and distinguished honors if he would exert his influence to effect a reconciliation. I am not worth purchasing, said the honest Patriot, but such as I am, the King of Britain is not rich enough to buy me. CHAPTER XXXIII American History Stories. Volume 2 This Libervox recording is in the public domain. American History Stories. Volume 2 by Mara L. Pratt. CHAPTER XXXIII Emily Geiger To us in days of the Revolution dark days were they and drear, and by Carolina firesides the women sat in fear. For the men were away at the fighting and sad was the news that came all was lost, and the death-list held many a loved one's name. When as heart sore they sat round the campfires, what ho! who'll volunteer to carry a message to sumptor? A voice rang loud and clear. There was a sudden silence, but not a man replied. They knew too well of the peril of one who dared that ride. Out spoke then Emily Geiger, with a rich flush on her cheek. She gave the message to be sent. I am the one you seek, for I am a southern woman, and I'd rather do and dare than sit by a lonely fireside my heart gnawed through with care. They gave her the precious missive, and on her own good steed she rode away, mid the cheers of the men, upon her daring deed, and away through the lonely forests steadily galloping on, she saw the sun sink low in the sky and down. Halt or eye fire! On a sudden a rifle clicked close by. Let you pass, not we till we know you are no messenger nor spy. She's a wig from her face I will wager, swore the officer of the day, to the guardhouse, and sent for a woman to search her without delay. No time did she lose in bewailing. As the bolt creaked in the lock she was note that was hidden in her frock, and she read it through with hurried care, then ate it piece by piece, and calmly set her down to wait, till time should bring release. They brought her out in a little, and set her on her steed, with many a rude apology for their discourteous deed. On, on, once more through the forest black, the good horse panting strains, till the century's challenge, who comes that the end she gangs. Air an hour in the camp of Sumter there was hurrying to and fro. Saddle and mount, saddle and mount, the bugles shrilly blow, forward trot, and the long ranks will, and into the darkness glide, long shall the British rue that march, and Emily Geiger's ride.