of Paul Revere's ride in such vivid, thrilling words that he was
placed in the list of heroes that the world can never forget. But it had
not seemed such a great deed then.

Old North Square had many curious memories. It had been a very desirable
place of residence, though it was dropping down even now. There were
quaint warehouses and oddly constructed shops, taverns with queer names
almost washed out of the signs by the storms of many winters. There were
the "Red Lion" and the "King's Arms" and other names that smacked of
London and had not been overturned in the Revolution. Here had stood the
old Second Church that General Howe had caused to be pulled down for
firewood during the siege of Boston, the spot rendered sacred by the
sermon of many a celebrated Mather. And here had resided Governor Thomas
Hutchinson, who would have been sacrificed to the fury of the mob for
his Tory proclivities during the Stamp Act riot but for his
brother-in-law, the Rev. Samuel Mather, who faced the mob and told them
"he should protect the Governor with his life, even if their sentiments
were totally dissimilar." And when he came to open court the next
morning he had neither gown nor wig, very important articles in that
day. For the wigs had long curling hair, and those who wore them had
their hair cropped close, like malefactors.

And here was the still stately Frankland House, whose romance was to
interest Doris deeply a few years hence and to be a theme for poet and
novelist. But now she was a good deal amused when her uncle told her of
a Captain Kemble in the days of Puritan rule who, after a long sea
voyage, was hurrying up the Square, when his wife, who had heard the
vessel was sighted, started to go to the landing. As they met the
captain took her in his arms and kissed her, and was punished for
breaking the Sabbath day by being put in the stocks.

"But did they think it so very wrong?" Her face grew suddenly grave.

"I suppose they did. They had some queer ideas in those days. They
thought all exhibitions of affection out of place."

Doris looked thoughtfully out to the harbor. Perhaps that was the reason
no one but Betty kissed her.

Then they drove around to the Green Dragon. This had been a famous inn,
where, in the early days, the patriots came to plan and confer and lay
their far-reaching schemes. It was said they went from here to the
famous Tea Party. Uncle Winthrop repeated an amusing rhyme:

"'Rally, Mohocks,