evere, had
ridden up the Neck, encountered a foe, who opposed his ride into the
country, and, after a brief delay, rode on, leaving a British officer
lying in a clay pit.

At mid-night, a hundred ears had heard the flying horseman cry, "Up and
arm. The Regulars are coming out!"

You know the story well. You have heard how the wild alarm ran from
voice to voice and echoed beneath every roof, until the men of Lexington
and Concord were stirred and aroused with patriotic fear for the safety
of the public stores that had been committed to their keeping.

You know how, long ere the chill April day began to dawn, they had
drawn, by horse power and by hand power, the cherished stores into safe
hiding-places in the depth of friendly forest-coverts.

There is one thing about that day that you have NOT heard and I will
tell you now. It is, how one little woman staid in the town of Concord,
whence all the women save her had fled.

All the houses that were standing then, are very old-fashioned now, but
there was one dwelling-place on Concord Common that was old-fashioned
even then! It was the abode of Martha Moulton and "Uncle John." Just who
"Uncle John" was, is not now known, but he was probably Martha Moulton's
uncle. The uncle, it appears by record, was eighty-five years old; while
the niece was ONLY three-score and eleven.

Once and again that morning, a friendly hand had pulled the latch-string
at Martha Moulton's kitchen entrance and offered to convey herself and
treasures away, but, to either proffer, she had said: "No, I must stay
until Uncle John gets the cricks out of his back, if all the British
soldiers in the land march into town."

At last, came Joe Devins, a lad of fifteen years--Joe's two astonished
eyes peered for a moment into Martha Moulton's kitchen, and then eyes
and owner dashed into the room, to learn, what the sight he there saw,
could mean.

"Whew! Mother Moulton, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting Uncle John his breakfast to be sure, Joe," she answered.
"Have you seen so many sights this morning that you don't know
breakfast, when you see it? Have a care there, for hot fat WILL burn,"
as she deftly poured the contents of a pan, fresh from the fire, into a
dish.

Hungry Joe had been astir since the first drum had beat to arms at two
of the clock. He gave one glance at the boiling cream and the slices
of crisp pork swimming in it, as he gasped forth the words, "Getting
breakfast in Concord THIS