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

"Your mother makes good cheese," he said.

"My sister made them."

"Your sister, eh. Older than yourself?"

"No, younger; only seventeen."

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

"I shall want some sugar, coffee, mola.s.ses, codfish, and other things."

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

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

"May I ask why you withhold two?"

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: BONNER'S Map of Boston for 1722.]

"Your father's name is"--

"Joshua Walden," said Robert.

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

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

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

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

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

"I was just having a talk with this young gentleman about his cheeses.

This is Mr. Walden from Rumford. You perhaps may remember his father, with whom we traded last year."

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

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

"Shall we have the pleasure of drinking the health of your father?"

said Mr. Hanc.o.c.k, courteously touching his gla.s.s to Robert's. "Please give him my compliments and say to him that we expect New Hampshire to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ma.s.sachusetts in the cause of liberty."

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

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

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

Mr. Hanc.o.c.k bowed once more and sat down to his writing-desk.

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

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

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

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

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: Samuel Adams.]

"Well, if you run across a tall, good-looking man between forty-five and fifty, with blue eyes, who wears a red cloak and c.o.c.ked hat, and who looks as if he wasn't afeard of the king, the devil, or any of his imps, that is Maltster Sam. We call him Maltster Sam because he once made malt for a living, but didn't live by it because it didn't pay.

He's a master hand in town meetings. He made it red-hot for Bernard, and he'll make it hotter for Sammy Hutchinson if he don't mind his p's and q's. Sam is a buster, now, I tell you."

Robert drove through Cow Lane and came to the house. He rapped at the front door, which was opened by a tall man, with a pleasant but resolute countenance, whose clothes were plain and getting threadbare.

His hair was beginning to be gray about the temples, and he wore a gray tie wig.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robert thought he never had seen a smile more gracious than that upon her pale, careworn countenance.[13] He noticed that everything about the room was plain, but neat and tidy. Upon a shelf were the Bible, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, and a volume of Reverend Mr. South's sermons. Robert remembered his father said Mrs. Adams was the daughter of Reverend Mr. Checkley, minister of the New South Meetinghouse, and that Mr. Adams went to meeting there. Upon the table were law books, pamphlets, papers, letters, and newspapers. He saw that some of the letters bore the London postmark. He remembered his father said Mr.

Adams had not much money; that he was so dead in earnest in maintaining the rights of the people he had little time to attend to his own affairs.

[Footnote 13: Mrs. Adams was the daughter of Reverend Samuel Checkley, pastor of the New South Church, which stood on Church Green at the junction of Summer and Bedford streets. She was a woman of much refinement and intelligence, and greatly beloved.]

"Will you be in town through the week and over the Sabbath?" Mr. Adams asked.