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

"'Don't you hear my little bell Go c.h.i.n.king, c.h.i.n.king, c.h.i.n.k?

Please give me a little money To buy my Pope a drink.'

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

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

Mr. Bushwick chuckled merrily, and took a fresh quid of tobacco.

Robert also laughed at the vivacious description.

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

Robert said.

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

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

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

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

"That's what it was. Everybody was generous. Last year when the day came round a lot of us gathered under the old tree to celebrate it.

Sam Adams was there, James Otis, Doctor Warren, John Hanc.o.c.k, and ever so many more. We fired salutes, sang songs, and drank fourteen toasts.

That was at ten o'clock. Just before noon we rode out to the Greyhound Tavern in Roxbury in carriages and chaises, and had a dinner of fish, roast pig, sirloin, goose, chickens and all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, topping off with plum-pudding and apple-pie, sang d.i.c.kenson's Liberty Song, drank thirty more toasts, forty-four in all, filling our gla.s.ses with port, madeira, egg-nogg, flip, punch, and brandy. Some of us, of course, were rather jolly, but we got home all right," said Mr. Bushwick, laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD BRICK MEETINGHOUSE]

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

He saw two cannon in the street and a soldier keeping guard before the door. Negro servants were filling their pails at the pump, and kindly pumped water for the mare. Looking down King Street toward the water, he saw the stocks and pillory, the Custom House, and in the distance the masts and yard-arms of ships. Up Queen Street he could see the jail.

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

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: Latin School.]

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

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

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

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: Green Dragon Tavern.]

"Well Jenny, old girl, how do you do?" he said, addressing the mare.

"So it is the son and not the father? I hope you are well. And how's your dad?"

Robert replied that his father was well.

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

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

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

Robert followed the negro upstairs, and discovered that each room had its distinctive name. He could have carried the trunk, but as he was to be a gentleman, it would not be dignified were he to shoulder it.

He knew he must be in the market early in the morning, and went to bed soon after supper. He might have gone at once to Copp's Hill, a.s.sured of a hearty welcome in the Brandon home, but preferred to make the Green Dragon his abiding-place till through with the business that brought him to Boston.

II.

FIRST DAY IN BOSTON.

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

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

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

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

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: Faneuil Hall.]

"The market is glutted," replied the second.

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

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