aid he could not give without the duties
first being paid. Mr. Rotch was then sent to ask for a pass from
the governor, who returned answer that "consistent with the rules of
government and his duty to the king he could not grant one without they
produced a previous clearance from the office."

By the time Mr. Rotch returned to the Old South Meeting-House with
this message, the candles were lighted and the house still crowded with
people. When the governor's message was read a prodigious shout was
raised, and soon afterward the moderator declared the meeting dissolved.
This caused another general shout, outdoors and in, and what with
the noise of breaking up the meeting, one might have thought that the
inhabitants of the infernal regions had been let loose.

That night there mustered upon Fort Hill about two hundred strange
figures, SAID TO BE INDIANS FROM NARRAGANSETT. They were clothed in
blankets, with heads muffled, and had copper-colored countenances. Each
was armed with a hatchet or axe, and a pair of pistols. They spoke a
strange, unintelligible jargon.

They proceeded two by two to Griffin's Wharf, where three tea-ships lay,
each with one hundred and fourteen chests of the ill-fated article on
board. And before nine o'clock in the evening every chest was knocked
into pieces and flung over the sides.

Not the least insult was offered to any one, save one Captain Conner,
who had ripped up the linings of his coat and waistcoat, and, watching
his opportunity, had filled them with tea. But, being detected, he was
handled pretty roughly. They not only stripped him of his clothes, but
gave him a coat of mud, with a severe bruising into the bargain. Nothing
but their desire not to make a disturbance prevented his being tarred
and feathered.

The tea being thrown overboard, all the Indians disappeared in a most
marvelous fashion.

The next day, if a stranger had walked through the streets of Boston,
and had observed the calm composure of the people, he would hardly have
thought that ten thousand pounds sterling of East India Company's tea
had been destroyed the night before.

A GUNPOWDER STORY

BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE (ADAPTED)

[Footnote 6: From Stories of the Old Dominion. Used by permission of the
American Book Company, publishers.]

In the autumn of 1777 the English decided to attack Fort Henry, at
Wheeling, in northwestern Virginia. This was an important border fort
named in honor of Patrick Henry,