l them not to take the oath of allegiance, and they
expect every year that the King of France will retake the country."

"Well, what of it? They say they are neutrals, and if you leave them
alone, and they mind their own business, and till their farms, they'll
come round all right in the end."

"Will they? They're the funniest neutrals you ever saw. They are dead
set against England, and claim to belong to France. If a garrison wants
to buy food, not a bit will they sell. But when the French and Indians
make an inroad into the country, they run to them, give them all they
have, join in with them, and fight us. When the French are driven back,
they scatter and go back to their farms, as innocent as can be. No, sir.
There's no getting on with them. It has been tried over forty years. The
only way to stop this constant trouble and fighting is to carry the
whole of them out of the country, and give their rich farms to good,
honest young men like these here.

[Sidenote: THE ACADIANS MUST BE DRIVEN OUT]

"Come now! Take the King's shilling. Serve his Majesty, good King
George, for a few months; and you can live like lords for the rest of
your days."

Thaddeus and I were mightily tempted by the man's talk, but Mr.
Harrington said that he could not spare us, and that we were too young,
anyhow. "And very likely, boys, instead of hundreds of acres, with
housen and outhousen, and farm tools, and booty, all that you'd get
would be six feet of ground and a pine box."

The days when the court sat at Concord were holidays with us, and the
people flocked up there to see the court come in, and to watch the
trials. And this spring, Spikeman's company was there too.

On the second day of court I rode to Concord, found Edmund at the
tavern, and we went round the town together.

The court had disposed of some cases already. We saw a couple seated on
the gallows, with ropes round their necks.

"Are they going to hang them, Edmund?"

"Not unless they tumble off and hang themselves. I suppose they put them
up there to show that hanging would be none too good for them. Look at
those fellows in the stocks. They don't belong here, and did not leave
when warned out of town by the constable."

Near by the stocks was the pillory. There was a man standing in it, with
his head and hands sticking out through the holes. Of all humiliating
punishments, this always seemed to me to be the worst. A man in that
position looks thoroughly mean and