were to be infinitely greater than any contrast could be. I can see now, as I did not then, that rightly looked at, the skirmish at Lexington where my father fell, had within it the beginnings of two nations—and one of them was Canada. But of this, later in the story.

That night I was again in the library in consultation with my mother and sisters, regarding the possible recovery of my father's body, when a low knocking at the door startled us. A few moments later Duncan Hale and Doctor Canfield, minister of the parish, were seated among us.

In a few softly spoken words the good clergyman expressed his sincere sympathy for us in our sudden affliction. Doctor Canfield was one of Harvard's most brilliant sons; he had travelled much; was directly descended from a noble English family; he was possessed of means; many of the foremost men of letters were his correspondents; he was tall and military in bearing; graceful and eloquent in speech; the soul of courtesy and honour; and withal, he was a master of the fine art of manners. It was Doctor Canfield and others like him who made separation from England difficult, standing, as they did, for the only refinement that the provinces knew, peopled as these were mainly with rough, plain tradespeople and farmers. As he talked with my mother, I could not help setting his fineness over against the coarseness of the many men I had seen through the day.

Duncan Hale sat silent, until Doctor Canfield, turning to him, asked him to relate what he knew of the events of the previous day. As this was a matter to which our minds had been constantly reverting since the reported death of my father, we gave him willing audience.

'Three days ago it became known to General Gage, madam,' he said, rising and addressing my mother, 'that a considerable quantity of rebel stores had been collected at the village of Lexington, some fourteen miles from Boston. The General decided, in the interests of His Majesty's government and of peace, that these should be destroyed. Accordingly he ordered Major Pitcairn to march with eight hundred men to Lexington, and destroy or seize the rifles and ammunition there stored. Guided by your excellent husband, who knew the country as the officers did not, the soldiers succeeded in destroying the stores, but, when they were on the point of returning to Boston, they were attacked by thousands of the rebels, who, having been previously made acquainted with the intention of our soldiers by means of spies riding out from Boston, one Paul Revere being chief, were fully armed and well prepared. Seeing themselves so overwhelmingly outnumbered, and being informed that the whole country for fully fifty miles around was in arms, the English officers, after consulting with Lord Percy, who had gone out later in the day, agreed to fall back upon Boston.'

The schoolmaster finished and sat down. There was a strangely agitated look on his face. I was wondering what this could mean, when a sharp whistle sounded at the door.

Instantly we were on our feet. Duncan Male's face went suddenly white. The next moment a dozen or more of the rough rebel soldiers I had seen through the day, burst into the room.

'Spy!' the leading man shouted, springing toward the schoolmaster. But a door that had been unobserved by the rebels, and therefore unguarded by them before their attack, opened from the library upon the verandah. Through this Duncan sprang, and in the shaft of light that shot from the room, I saw him leap into the darkness. The door shut with a spring lock in the face of his pursuer.

Chapter II

Among Enemies

The next morning I boldly resolved to ride out into the country. A double purpose moved me to this course. I was anxious first, to recover, if possible, my father's body, and secondly, I knew that by mingling with the rebels, I would gather information that might be of service to me and to my mother in making our future plans. The invasion of our home by the soldiers and the sudden and dramatic disappearance of my friend and schoolmaster, Duncan Hale, to whom I had intended to look for advice, threw me quite upon my own resources. As to Dr. Canfield, much as he might wish to be of service to us, I was aware that his position, as well as his pronounced sympathy with the King's cause, would render it almost impossible for him to obtain information except regarding the Royalist side. I saw at once that if information was to be gained, I must gain it myself.

I knew that there were many in the country around who had taken no part in the long controversy that had preceded the shedding of blood. There were the quiet farmer people, with whom my father had traded so long, and whom until yesterday I had seen for years almost daily go in towards Boston with produce. I was sure that these could not in a day have become strong and violent partizans for either side. Then, there were those who were opposed to war, because it was wicked, and violated the teaching of Scripture. Taking our day-school to reflect the mind of the community, I concluded that there must even yet be great diversity of views regarding what was right and what was wrong.

My father had warned me against declaring myself on either side. When, in our home, Duncan Hale had fiercely engaged in denouncing the rebels, he had urged upon him the necessity of a more cautious attitude. The events of the previous night led me to think that Duncan had not fully taken to heart the advice my father had given him. But I was sure that, if he had offended, I had not. At any rate I resolved to go out into the country.

I found Peter, and told him to saddle the horse he used about the farm and garden; then having dressed myself to look like one of the many farmer boys I had seen passing our home, I rode off toward Lexington.

It was still early, but there were many coming and going. I soon learned that I had been quite successful in disguising myself. A fellow a little older than myself galloped up beside me.

'Goin' to enlist?' he asked.

'I am going out to Lexington to learn the truth about what happened there,' I said. 'Where are you from?'

'Out Concord way. I come from there last night, an' am on my way back. Day before yesterday I shot a redcoat, one o' them fancy soldiers the King sent to Boston two years ago to enforce his laws. I'll show you the place when we come to it.' I glanced at his face, and marked in it a note of triumphant glee.

'How long do you suppose the siege will last?' he said a little later.

'The siege,' I said, 'what siege?'

He stared at me for some moments. 'Where've ye been livin' lately, ye galoot? Don't ye know 'at Boston is besieged, an' that before two weeks we're to drive what we don't shoot uv the King's men into the harbour? That's the plan. That's good 'nough for 'em. Why couldn't they act decent, instead uv puttin' on airs an' insultin' folks. How much better is a soldier than a farmer, I'd like to know? Then think uv them laws. Go 'way back to the very first—back over a hundred years, when the trouble began by the surveyors puttin' the King's mark on all the pine-trees over two feet in diameter. Supposin' the King did want masts for his ships, what was the sense in puttin' his arrow on thousands of trees that would never be used? What justice was there in finin' a man a hundred pounds for cuttin' down an' sawin' up a tree that was bein' left to rot? Think uv my great grandfather spendin' three months in jail for cuttin' lumber to build his house. Was that right?

'An' that wasn't the only bad law. Why wouldn't the King allow people to build mills an' use the waterfalls? Who'd any right to say we couldn't sell fish or boards wherever we chose—even to the French or Spanish? Our people wanted to work an' they weren't allowed to. That's the way the trouble begun. An' then think uv all them later taxes on tea an' other things we 'ad to buy. Were we to go on for ever payin' an' payin',