Part 19

Actually to withdraw from the rule of Massachusetts required time, during which period David never returned home without bringing some interesting news. One day it was, "Uncle John, Portsmouth has seventy-one men who can vote; Dover has sixty-one; Hampton, fifty-seven; and Exeter, twenty." At another time he announced, "There is to be an important meeting in March, to which every town of New Hampshire is to send three representatives except Exeter, which sends two."

On the 16th of March, the day of the General Assembly, John Stevens sent the boy off to town for the whole day.

"Learn everything for me, David," was his parting command. "Do not miss a thing. And David," he added, impressively, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, "Remember always that this is your New Hampshire." Then he counted the hours for the boy's return.

When David reached the town he found three other boys of his own age eagerly watching for a sight of the gentlemen attending the Assembly. Choosing an advantageous spot on the roadside, David and his companions swung themselves to the low, spreading branches of an oak, where they patiently waited.

"Here they come," called Sam Cutt, who had already seen these gentlemen arrive at his father's house.

As the solemn procession of representatives from New Hampshire's four small towns passed on their way to the meeting-house, David slid from his branch to the ground and in an erect position bared his head and held his hat to his heart until they had passed.

"Oh, see the sissy!" cried one boy from the tree, pointing to David, when the riders had moved along. David's face flushed, but with unusual self-command he replied.

"Did you not know that those men are taking care of our province, which is yet very small, and that this is for us all a very serious and important meeting that they are attending?"

The surprised boys who had expected to see David slink away, slid down from the branches, caught with interest in what he continued to tell them of town and even state affairs. They asked questions which he could answer. "Now I tell you," he added with authority, "you must remember always that this is your New Hampshire." David's knowledge of his country had so deeply impressed and interested the boys that, when the General Assembly adjourned, four hatless lads stood in respect as the members passed, who honored them with a salute.

When, at the close of the day, David reached home he threw off his coat and warmed his hands by the fire exclaiming.

"You should have seen the dignified gentlemen, uncle. There were a dozen or more of them who rode from Mr. Cutt's estate to the meeting-house. They wore fine clothes, and swords at their sides, and shining buckles on their shoes and knee bands. The Rev. Mr. Moody preached a sermon to them after he had offered a long prayer. Then the gentlemen voted to write a letter to the General Court of Massachusetts. Sam Cutt told me all about it. He had asked his father what had happened there. And, uncle, in this letter they thanked the Court for the care and kindness given us while we were under its rule. They explained that we did not seek this change. It was only because it was the King's wish that we were willing to accept the plan. Then they begged the Court for the benefit of its prayers and blessing in this separation. Sam said that it was all very solemn. Uncle," David continued, after a pause, "I kept feeling all day long, 'This is my New Hampshire!'"

THE BOWL OF BROTH

One September day Mrs. Elizabeth Heard opened the door of her house on the Cocheco River, in Dover, and first looking cautiously about, a habit bred by fear of lurking Indians, stepped out with a bowl of hot broth, which she was about to carry to a neighbor who was ill.

The Heard house was a garrison with a protecting wall built about it, the gate of which, Mrs. Heard at this moment noticed had been carelessly left open. A few months of peaceful living had caused the younger members of the family to grow careless of the once needed caution. Now about to pass through this gateway the quick movement of a shadow beyond the well, caught her eye. Bravely approaching the spot, she discovered, crouching there, a young Indian whose face instantly told more of fear than of daring. Instinctively her mother-heart felt sorry for him, and she offered him the bowl of hot broth. He drank it eagerly and then begged her to hide him. Without a moment's hesitation, she led him to the garret of her house and there in a corner concealed him under a pile of blankets. It was fortunate for her scheme that her family of ten, five boys and five girls, was off on a fishing trip.

Later, on their return, they brought the news of a large capture of Indians made in the town that day. Mrs. Heard said nothing of the one then hidden under their own roof.

After the children had been tucked into bed, and she had made the rounds of the rooms to be sure that all were sleeping, she crept to the garret and signaled to the Indian that his moment of escape had come. Noiselessly and swiftly he made his way out.

Some thirteen years passed, and the children of the Heard family were well grown. One June day in 1689, Mrs. Heard, three of her sons, a daughter and some friends, had taken a river trip to Portsmouth and were returning by night. As they approached Dover, where their home still stood, they heard many unusual sounds.

"I fear the Indians may be in the town, Benjamin," remarked Mrs. Heard to her oldest son, with some alarm.

"Perhaps," replied Benjamin, "we had better go right to the Waldron's garrison, since it is so near. I see lights there."

The party, filled with fear, hastened to the house suggested and knocked at the outer gate.

"Let us in!" they pleaded. No answer, however, came from the home within. Benjamin then climbed the wall and looked over the top. To his horror, he saw an Indian, armed with a gun, standing in the open doorway of the house. Benjamin had not been seen, and the confusion within had drowned the cries outside. Jumping down, he started his party with utmost speed to their own garrison house. They had not gone far, before, to his dismay, he realized that his mother was not with them.

He returned to the scene of their peril to find his mother, exhausted by fright, still at the gate. She was lying there unable to move.

"Go," she implored him in a whisper, "and help the others to safety! I will come as soon as my strength returns." At that moment a cry of fear from the others, and his mother's last urgent appeal drove Benjamin to their rescue while his brave mother was left to her fate.

Recovering a little, Mrs. Heard crept to some protecting bushes where she lay until daylight, when the gate opened, and an Indian with a pistol approached her. He paused and looked at her very hard. Silently he left but returned immediately, for another keen look. This time, his grim savage face still unmoved, he grunted--

"Good squaw kept Indian boy safe! Indian no forget!" Then he ran yelling to the house, with some word for his friends who seemed to be there in numbers.

Soon after the Waldron house burst into flames. Not until the house had burned to the ground, and the Indians had gone, could Mrs. Heard gather strength enough to move. She feared the same sad end for her own home, but, to her surprise, she found it standing unharmed. Surely she had received her blessing for the bowl of broth and aid to the Indian lad, for her family and the friends, who had succeeded in reaching the house, reported that they had been free from attack through the horrors of that night, which were long remembered by the people of Dover.

THOMAS TOOGOOD OUTWITS AN INDIAN

An Incident of 1690.