on horseback, at rapid speed, and cried out, 'Samuel, notify your men: the British are coming.' My father mounted the general's horse, rode a distance of seven miles, notified the men of his circuit, and was back again at his father's house in forty minutes. In three hours the company was ready to march, and on the next day (the 20th) reached Cambridge. My father was in the battle of Bunker Hill; received a bullet through his cap, which cut his hair from front to rear; received a spent grape-shot upon his arm, without breaking the bone; and lost a large number of men. His veteran Captain Farwell was shot through the body, was taken up for dead, and was so reported by the man who was directed to carry him off. This report brought back the captain's voice, and he exclaimed, with his utmost power, 'It an't true; don't let my poor wife hear of this; I shall live to see my country free.' And so it turned out. This good man, who had served at the capture of Cape Breton in 1745, again in 1755, and now on Bunker Hill in 1775, is connected with everything interesting in my early days. The bullet was extracted, and remains, as a memento, with his descendants. My father and mother were acquainted from their childhood, and engaged to be married some time in 1775. They kept up a correspondence through 1776, when he was at New York; but, on a visit to her, in 1777 (his mother having advised them to be married, as Susan had better be Sam's widow than his forlorn damsel), they were married; but, while the ceremony was going forward, the signal was given to call all soldiers to their posts; and, within the hour, he left his wife, father, mother, and friends, to join his regiment, then at Cambridge. This was on the 22d day of July, 1777. In consideration of the circumstances, his colonel allowed him to return to his wife, and to join the army at Rhode Island in a brief time (two or three days). He did so, and saw nothing more of home until the last day of that year. The army being in winter quarters, he got a furlough for a short period, and reached home in time to assist at the ordination of the Rev. Daniel Chaplin, of whose church both my parents were then members. His return was a season of great joy to all his family. His stay was brief, and nothing more was seen of him until the autumn of 1778, when he retired from the army, in time to be with his wife at the birth of their first child. From that time he was identified with everything connected with the good of the town. As we children came forward, we were carefully looked after, but were taught to use the talents intrusted to us; and every nerve was strained to provide for us the academy which is now doing so much there. We sons are doing less for education for our means than our father for his means."

Of his mother Mr. Lawrence always spoke in the strongest terms of veneration and love, and in many of his letters are found messages of affection, such as could have emanated only from a heart overflowing with filial gratitude. Her form bending over their bed in silent prayer, at the hour of twilight, when she was about leaving them for the night, is still among the earliest recollections of her children.

She was a woman well fitted to train a family for the troubled times in which she lived. To the kindest affections and sympathies she united energy and decision, and in her household enforced that strict and unhesitating obedience, which she considered as the foundation of all success in the education of children. Her hands were never idle, as may be supposed, when it is remembered that in those days, throughout New England, in addition to the cares of a farming establishment, much of the material for clothing was manufactured by the inmates of the family. Many hours each day she passed at the hand-loom, and the hum of the almost obsolete spinning-wheel even now comes across the memory like the remembrance of a pleasant but half-forgotten melody.

CHAPTER II.

EARLY YEARS.—SCHOOL DAYS.—APPRENTICESHIP.

The first public instruction received by Mr. Lawrence was at the district school kept at a short distance from his father's house. Possessing a feeble constitution, he was often detained at home by sickness, where he employed himself industriously with his books and tools, in the use of which he acquired a good degree of skill, as may be seen from a letter to his son, at Groton, in 1839:

"Near the barn used to be an old fort, where the people went to protect themselves from the Indians; and, long since my remembrance, the old cellar was there, surrounded by elder-bushes and the like. I made use of many a piece of the elder for pop-guns and squirts, in the preparation of which I acquired a strong taste for the use of the pen-knife and jack-knife. I like the plan of boys acquiring the taste for tools, and of their taking pains to learn their use; for they may be so situated as to make a very slight acquaintance very valuable to them. And, then, another advantage is that they may have exercise of body and mind in some situations where they would suffer without. How do you employ yourself? Learn as much as you can of farming; for the work of your hands in this way may prove the best resource in securing comfort to you. The beautiful images of early life come up in these bright moonlight nights, the like of which I used to enjoy in the fields below our old mansion, where I was sent to watch the cattle. There I studied astronomy to more account than ever afterwards; for the heavens were impressive teachers of the goodness of that Father who is ever near to each one of his children. May you never lose sight of this truth, and so conduct yourself that at any moment you may be ready to answer when He calls!"

He did not allow himself to be idle, but, from his earliest years, exhibited the same spirit of industry which led to success in after life. With a natural quickness of apprehension, and a fondness for books, he made commendable progress, in spite of his disadvantages. His father's social disposition and hospitable feelings made the house a favorite resort for both friends and strangers; and among the most welcome were old messmates and fellow-soldiers, to whose marvellous adventures and escapes the youthful listener lent a most attentive ear. In after life he often alluded to the intense interest with which he hung upon these accounts of revolutionary scenes, and times which "tried men's souls." The schoolmaster was usually billeted upon the family; and there are now living individuals high in political and social life who served in that capacity, and who look back with pleasure to the days passed under that hospitable roof.

At a later period, he seems to have been transferred to another school, in the adjoining district, as will be seen by the following extract of a letter, written in 1844, to a youth at the Groton Academy:

"More than fifty years ago, your father and I were school children together. I attended then at the old meeting-house, or North Barn, as it was called, by way of derision, where I once remember being in great tribulation at having lost my spelling-book on the way. It was afterwards restored to me by Captain Richardson, who found it under his pear-tree, where I had been, without leave, on my way to school, and with the other children helped myself to his fruit."

From the district school, Mr. Lawrence entered the Groton Academy, of which all his brothers and sisters were members at various times. As his strength was not sufficient to make him useful upon the farm, in the autumn of 1799 he was placed in a small