igious men and did not believe in play acting. But plays like these
could do no harm. Jonas loved this man's writings next to the Bible, and
I saved up money and bought a copy of the book myself. Mr. Clark had the
same love for Shakespeare, and often when we stopped wrestling, as it
began to grow dark, Jonas would say that Mr. Clark had asked him to come
down to his house with me, and he would read to us. The plays seemed
much finer as he read them in his clear voice and explained them to us,
for by ourselves we only saw a portion of their beauties.

Jonas and I were at his house one August evening of this year, 1757, and
Mr. Clark had just begun to read, when Dr. Fiske rode up, and pulling up
his horse, called out: "Mr. Clark! Mr. Clark! There's bad news--very bad
news from the army. Colonel Brattle has received word from General Webb
that the French army were advancing to attack Fort William Henry, and he
was afraid it would be taken. Good-by!"

Mr. Clark shut up the book and said: "This is no night for Shakespeare.
Let us pray for the safety of our army."

[Sidenote: BAD NEWS FROM THE ARMY]

Two days afterward, another messenger rode up to our shop.

"There has been a great disaster. Fort William Henry is taken, and the
garrison has been massacred."

"Go on! How did it happen?"

"Colonel Munro was at the fort with a small force. Montcalm advanced
with his army to attack it. Munro sent to Webb for reenforcements. He
promised to send them and did send a few. Munro again asked for more
men, but Webb didn't let a man go. Montcalm attacked the fort, battered
it to pieces, and finally the garrison was compelled to surrender. They
were to deliver up their arms and then were to be allowed to march off
to the English army. They gave up their guns and started back to Webb,
but before they got far they were set upon by the Indians and most of
them massacred. Some few escaped to Webb's army."

"And what was Webb doing all this time?"

"Shaking in his shoes, I guess. He is now; for he has sent messengers
everywhere for reenforcements."

"The miserable coward! We'll send him men, but he ought to be hanged."

The next day a number of men set out under Captain Blodgett.

I wished to go very much, but Mr. Harrington said: "It's too late in the
season for them to do anything. They will just sit down and watch each
other. Your time is up next spring, and if you want to go then, I'll let
you off early."

So I stayed at ho