re a few elderly men, who had hunted Indians through
the underbrush of the forest, in old Governor Dummer's war.

In this dilemma, Governor Shirley fixed upon a wealthy merchant, named
William Pepperell, who was pretty well known and liked among the people.
As to military skill, he had no more of it than his neighbors. But, as the
governor urged him very pressingly, Mr. Pepperell consented to shut up his
leger, gird on a sword, and assume the title of General.

Meantime, what a hubbub was raised by this scheme! Rub-a-dub-dub!
Rub-a-dub-dub! The rattle of drums, beaten out of all manner of time, was
heard above every other sound.

Nothing now was so valuable as arms, of whatever style and fashion they
might be. The bellows blew, and the hammer clanged continually upon the
anvil, while the blacksmiths were repairing the broken weapons of other
wars. Doubtless, some of the soldiers lugged out those enormous, heavy
muskets, which used to be fired with rests, in the time of the early
Puritans. Great horse-pistols, too, were found, which would go off with a
bang like a cannon. Old cannon, with touch-holes almost as big as their
muzzles, were looked upon as inestimable treasures. Pikes, which perhaps,
had been handled by Miles Standish's soldiers, now made their appearance
again. Many a young man ransacked the garret, and brought forth his
great-grandfather's sword, corroded with rust, and stained with the blood
of King Philip's war.

Never had there been seen such an arming as this, when a people, so long
peaceful, rose to the war, with the best weapons that they could lay their
hands upon. And still the drums were heard--Rub-a-dub-dub!
Rub-a-dub-dub!--in all the towns and villages; and louder and more numerous
grew the trampling footsteps of the recruits that marched behind.

And now the army began to gather into Boston. Tall, lanky, awkward,
fellows, came in squads, and companies, and regiments, swaggering along,
dressed in their brown homespun clothes and blue yarn stockings. They
stooped, as if they still had hold of the plough-handles, and marched
without any time or tune. Hither they came, from the corn-fields, from the
clearing in the forest, from the blacksmith's forge, from the carpenter's
workshop, and from the shoemaker's seat. They were an army of rough faces
and sturdy frames. A trained officer of Europe would have laughed at them,
till his sides had ached. But there was a spirit in their bosoms, which is
mor