Brenda, Her School and Her Club

  XVI

  AN HISTORIC RAMBLE

  On a bright, sunny morning just before the beginning of the Christmasholidays, Miss South asked Julia if she would care to go within a day ortwo to visit some of the historic spots at the North End.

  "It is not quite as good a season," the teacher had added, "as in theearly autumn or spring, but I have learned that it is never well to putoff indefinitely what can be as well done at once. Something may happento prevent our going later, and so if you can go with me this week Ishall be very glad."

  "Oh, thank you, Miss South," replied Julia, "I should love to go, andany day this week would do."

  "And I may go, too, mayn't I?" cried Nora, who happened to be standingby.

  "Why, certainly," replied Miss South, "the more, the better; I should bepleased to have all 'The Four' go."

  As it happened, however, on the afternoon selected for the excursion,only Julia and Nora really cared to go. Brenda and Belle had somespecial appointment which nothing would induce them to break, and Edithexpressed decided objections against going again into that dirty part ofthe town.

  Even a Boston December can offer many a balmy day, and one could notwish a pleasanter afternoon than that which Julia and Nora had for theirvisit to the North End under the guidance of Miss South.

  She made Faneuil Hall the beginning of the trip, and if I had time Ishould like to repeat what she told them about this famous building andits donor, old Peter Faneuil, the descendant of the Huguenots.

  Nora was very much impressed by hearing that the first public meeting inthe building which Peter Faneuil had given to his native town was thatwhich assembled to hear Master Lovejoy of the Latin School pronounce afuneral eulogy over the donor of the hall.

  For his death happened less than six months after the town had formallyaccepted his gift in 1742.

  "You must remember," said Miss South, "that fire, and other causes haveled to many changes in the old building, both inside and out, and yet itmay still be considered the most interesting building in the countryhistorically, or at least of equal interest with Independence Hall inPhiladelphia."

  As they walked about and looked at the portraits of Washington, andHancock, and Adams, and Warren and the other great men considered wortha place in this famous hall, Miss South told them of a political meetingwhich she had once attended there, and how interesting it had been tolook down from the galleries upon the mass of men standing on the floorbelow. For no seats are ever placed in this part of the hall, and withan exciting cause, or a noted speaker to attract, the sight of thiscrowd of men close pressed together is well worth seeing.

  "There is one time in particular," said Julia, "when I should have lovedto look in on the people in the hall."

  "When was that?" asked Miss South.

  "Why, during the Siege of Boston," she answered, "when the Britishturned it into a play-house, and all the British officers in town wereattending 'The Blockade of Boston.'"

  "Why, how can you remember?" exclaimed Nora.

  "I don't know," said Julia; "I've always remembered it since I read itin some history that just in the midst of the play the audience rose ingreat excitement at the report 'The Yankees are attacking our works atCharlestown.'"

  "Yes, that was the beginning of the end for the British in Boston," saidMiss South. "We are going to see other things to remind us of them thisafternoon. But now we must hasten on, for the afternoon will hardly belong enough for all that we wish to see."

  Then after a short walk, she said, "I am taking you a little out of yourway to show you one or two spots that you might overlook yourself. Nowjust here at this corner of Washington and Union streets, where westand, Benjamin Franklin passed much of his boyhood. Some personsbelieve that his birthplace was here. But I am more inclined to acceptthe Milk street location than this. Yet, here, almost where we stand,his father hung out the Blue Ball sign for his tallow candle business,and here, too, he lived with his wife and thirteen children.

  "Not far away," she continued as they walked along, "was the GreenDragon Tavern where John Adams, and Revere, and Otis and the other Sonsof Liberty used to hold their meetings, and this--let us stand here fora moment--is the site of the home of Joseph Warren. Here, where thishotel stands in Hanover street, he lived and practised his profession ofphysician, and in this old house I suppose, the news was brought to hischildren of his death at Bunker Hill."

  To save their strength Miss South now signalled a passing street car,and in a very few minutes they were taken to the corner of Princestreet. On the way Miss South had said that she wished to show themNorth Square, and when they left the car, one turn from the mainthoroughfare brought them within sight of this noted locality.

  The little corner shops, of which there were many in sight had signsworded in Italian, and some of the shop windows displayed all kinds offoreign-looking pastry and confections--less tempting, however, inappearance than the fresh green vegetables shown in the windows anddoorways of other shops. The dark-browed men and women who passed spoketo each other in Italian, and some of the women wore short skirts andbright kerchiefs which made their whole costume seem thoroughly foreign.

  "Down this Garden Court street," said Miss South, just before theyreached the square, "used to stand the house of Sir Harry Frankland."

  "Oh, yes," cried Nora, "there's _one_ thing that I remember, the storyof Agnes Surriage. I've read the novel."

  "Well, Agnes used to live here," said Miss South, "at least in thisneighborhood. No trace of the old mansion remains, although when builtit was the finest house in town, three stories high, with inlaid floor,carved mantels, and other decorations that even to-day we shouldprobably admire. Many other houses in this neighborhood are old, and Ihave a friend who can tell almost their precise age by studying thestyle of the bricks and mortar, but the only one of great historicinterest is that little old wooden house," and she pointed to one on thewestern side of the square.

  "It does not look so very old," said Julia.

  "No, because it has been clapboarded after the modern fashion. Asidefrom that, however, you can see that its overhanging upper story makesit unlike any house built in modern times. Here Paul Revere lived formany years, and his birthplace is near-by. I hope that in time it may bebought by some patriotic person, to be preserved as long as it willstand. At present it is a tenement house, and liable to destruction byfire at any moment through the carelessness of its occupants. Now wemust hurry on, but I wish that you could come to the square some time ona holiday, when it is a centre for all the picturesque Italians of whomthere are so many now in this part of the city."

  As they turned about under Miss South's guidance, she pointed out otherold houses--(one with the date 1724 above it) almost tumbling down,--andshe told them a little about the habits of the people living in thenarrow streets and alleys which they passed.

  "On the whole these people are much better off than ever they were intheir own country. They have political liberty, and their children havethe chance of acquiring a good education. In that school over there theyare taught to speak English, and they do learn it in a very thoroughmanner. The older people are slow in learning our language, and evenslower in acquiring our habits. They are so anxious to make money thatthey live crowded together in a very unwholesome fashion. Sometimes awhole family and one or two boarders will live in the same small room,and the children will go without proper food or clothes while the fatheris saving money enough to invest in a house or shop which he wishes toown."

  "Cannot this be prevented?" asked Julia.

  "Only by teaching young and old better habits. That is the effort whichall the charity workers in this neighborhood make. The kindergartens,and industrial schools, and all the other organizations are graduallyaccomplishing this. But it is hard work. I should like to tell you moreabout their difficulties, but now I suppose we must pay more attentionto history."

  While Miss South had been talking she had led them up a narrow streetwhich in snowy weather must have lived
up to its name "Snowhill street."At the top of the hill after a turn or two they came upon an oldburying-ground.

  "Copp's Hill," said Julia.

  "Why of course," responded Nora.

  "I brought you here to-day," said Miss South, "because I knew that thegates would be open. One cannot always get in during the winter monthsexcept by special arrangement. But in summer the old graveyard is like apark, and the little children from all parts of the North End come hereto play, and mothers with their babies are thankful enough for a seatunder the trees where they can feel the cool breeze from the harbor."

  "How quaint it is!" said Julia, looking down the narrow street, just asthey entered the gate. "Why there is Christ Church, isn't it?"

  "How did you know it?" asked Nora, "I thought that you had never beenhere before."

  "Well, I haven't, but there are ever so many photographs, showing justthis view. What is that queer little house, Miss South?"

  "I am glad that you asked, although I should not have forgotten to pointit out. That is a real Revolutionary relic, General Gage's headquartersduring part of the British occupation; it is one of the most interestinghouses left standing."

  Now turning their steps away from the quaint, hilly street, they werewithin the enclosure of the graveyard. It would take long to tell allthat they saw. There was the old gravestone which the British had made atarget, and marked with their bullets. There were some stones withnothing but the name and date, and neither very legible, others withrough carvings of cherubs' heads, or the angel of death, while some ofthe vaults at the side had heraldic carvings, the arms of old Toryfamilies.

  Miss South told them of the days when this graveyard had been neglected,and when the gravestones had toppled over, and had been carried off byany one who wished them. Some had been found by the present custodian ofthe ground in use as covers for drains, others as chimney tops, and somein old cellars and basements. There were famous names on some of thestones, and strange verses on others.

  Julia copied an inscription or two, such as,

  "A sister of Sarah Lucas lyeth here, Whom I did love most dear; And now her soul hath took its flight, And bid her spightful foes good-night."

  and this

  "Death with his dart hath pierced my heart, While I was in my prime; When this you see grieve not for me 'Twas God's appointed time."

  She had heard before of the Mather tomb, and looked with great intereston the brown slab enclosed with an iron railing, under which rested thenoted Puritan preacher.

  Yet while Julia took interest in the stones and inscriptions, Nora wasbetter pleased with the lovely view of the water to be seen from thesummit.

  "It was there in the channel," said Miss South, "that the men-of-war laywhen Paul Revere started out on that wonderful ride, and not so far fromthe spot where the receiving ship 'Wabash' now lies at the Navy Yard,the British landed in Charlestown on their way to Bunker Hill."

  "Oh, yes," said Julia, who had put aside her pencil and notebook, "I canunderstand now what a fine view the people of Boston must have had ofthe battle when they crowded to the graveyard and the roofs."

  "Yes, there was almost a clear view then," said Miss South, "and it musthave been a very exciting day for the watchers on the Boston side of thewater."

  "They were making for the steeple,--the old sexton and his people; The pigeons circled round us as we climbed the creaking stair, Just across the narrow river--oh so close it made us shiver! Stood a fortress on the hilltop that but yesterday was bare.

  "Not slow our eyes to find it--well we knew who stood behind it, Though the earthwork hid them from us, and the stubborn walls were dumb. Here were sister, wife and mother, looking wild upon each other, And their lips were white with terror, as they said 'The Hour is Come!'"

  "Bravo!" cried the others as Nora finished this quotation from Holmes'well-known poem. "If there were time," added Miss South, "we might askNora, or perhaps you Julia, to cap these stanzas with some otherhistorical poem.

  "The North End would be well worth another visit," continued Miss South,as they turned away. "I hope that some time you will both come to aservice in the old church, and if you choose the first Sunday of themonth, you will be able to see the fine communion service presented byGeorge the Second, and you will find the high backed pews and thefrescoes on the wall the same as they were a hundred and twenty-fiveyears ago."

  "What lots of little children there are playing about," cried Nora; "Ishould think that they would be run over a dozen times a day, for thereare certainly more in the middle of the street than on the sidewalks.Why see there, why just look, it really is----"

  "Manuel," broke in Julia, as Nora rushed forward and took the littlefellow by the hand--"why how are you, Manuel?"

  "My mother sick," he replied, smiling at Nora whom evidently heremembered very well.

  "Oh, couldn't we just go to see him, I mean his mother," cried Nora.

  "But if she is sick--" replied Miss South with hesitation.

  "Let us wait here at the corner--this is the very corner," pleaded Nora,"and you can see whether there would be any harm in our going there;Julia wants to see the house, and perhaps Mrs. Rosa only has a cold."

  As this seemed to be a sensible suggestion, Miss South with Manuel bythe hand went down the little street where the Rosas were living.