itement. And the governor had finally to withdraw the
troops from Boston.

When antagonism had abated in degree, King George devised new measures
of taxation and stirred ill feeling again. Boston brewed British tea in
the ocean. England disliked the taste of it. The people were declared
Rebels; and the charter of Massachusetts was annulled by Parliament. Ten
thousand British soldiers then came over. Boston Neck was seized and
fortified. The colonists were to be forced into obedience.

Then from Lexington and Concord the signals of revolt were sounded--

"They were building well for a race unborn,
As the British plowed through the waving corn,
For the birth-pang of Freedom rang that morn."

The Battle of Bunker Hill that followed was but the natural sequence.
Defeated though the patriots were in this their first real battle, it
was a defeat that spelled for them ultimate victory. This they
recognized dimly, but certainly, as they knew that they had gone into
battle with a prayer on their lips for themselves, for their homes, and
their country. Their hearts were fired anew for freedom. Their arms
would be strengthened to their desires. As the lights from the belfry of
Old North Church revealed to Paul Revere the route the British were to
take against them in the memorable beginnings at Lexington and Concord,
so the light from the Great Book above its chancel rail would direct
them the way they should go.

[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON.]

LEXINGTON

With one impulse the colonies sprung to arms; with one spirit they
pledged themselves to each other, "to be ready for the extreme
event." With one heart the continent cried, "Liberty or Death!"

BANCROFT.

SLOWLY the mist o'er the meadow was creeping,
Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun,
When from his couch while his children were sleeping,
Rose the bold rebel, and shouldered his gun.
Waving her golden veil
Over the silent dale,
Blithe looked the morning on cottage and spire;
Hushed was his parting sigh,
While from his noble eye,
Flashed the last sparkle of liberty's fire.

On the smooth green, where the fresh leaf is springing,
Calmly the first-born of glory have met,
Hark! the death-volley around them is ringing!
Look! with their lifeblood the young grass is wet!
Faint is the feeble breath,
Murmuring low in death,--
"Te