Daughters of the Revolution. Charles Carleton Coffin
Читать онлайн книгу.
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.
“I thank you for the information you have given me,” Robert replied.
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.
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.
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.
“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, assured 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 butter, handling chickens, and haggling with the farmers about the prices of what they had to sell.
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.
“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.
Robert began to think he might have to take them back to Rumford. He saw a sign, “John Hancock, Successor to Thomas Hancock,” and remembered that his father had traded there, and that John Hancock was associated with Sam Adams and Doctor Warren in resisting the aggressions of the king’s ministers. Mr. Hancock 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 dicker, for Mr. Hancock 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, molasses, 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.”
“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. Hancock liked it so well he took it for his own table. There is Mr. Hancock, 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