These around the open fireplace told the story of
Revolutionary marches, and camps, and battles. Nothing could be more
real to the open-eyed little boy than the narratives related by the
actors themselves, especially when he could ask questions, and get
full light and explanation.

For an author who would write on the beginnings of the Revolution, no
part of our country is so rich in historic sites, and so superbly
equipped with libraries, museums, relics, and memorials, as the valley
of the Charles River, in Massachusetts. In this region lies Boston,
where not the first, though nearly the first, blood of the Revolution
was shed; where were hung for Paul Revere the lantern-beacons; which
was first the base of operations against Bunker Hill; and which
afterward suffered siege, and served as the outlet for the Tories to
Canada, when Howe and his fleet sailed away. Across the river is the
battle-road to Lexington, now nobly marked with monumental stones and
tablets, and, further on, Lexington itself, with its blood-consecrated
green and inscribed boulder, its museum, and its well-marked historic
spots. Beyond is Concord, with its bridge, well-site, and bronze
minuteman. From the crest of the green mound on Bunker Hill, at
Charlestown, rises the granite monument seen from all the country
round. Near to Boston, is Cambridge with its university, Washington's
elm, and manifold Revolutionary memories; while on the southeast, on
the rising ground close at hand, and now part of the municipality
itself, are Dorchester Heights, once fortified and bristling with
cannon. Within easy reach by rail, water, or wheel, are places already
magnetic to the tourist and traveller, because their reputations have
been richly enlarged by poet, artist, romancer, and historian. Along
the coast, or slightly inland, stood the humble homes of the ancestors
of Grant and Lincoln, and but a little further to the southeast is the
"holy ground" of Plymouth.

Even more important to the historiographer are the amazing treasures
of books and records gathered in the twin cities on the Charles,
making a wealth of material for American history, unique in the United
States. What wonder, then, that the overwhelming majority of American
writers of history have wrought here? Nor need we be surprised that,
both in their general tone and in the bulk of their writing, they have
portrayed less the real history of the United States than the history
of New England,--wi