ommand of the army. His coming gave them confidence
and made them more than ever determined to drive the redcoats out of
Boston. They kept such a strict guard that the British could not
obtain fresh provisions, neither could the inhabitants of the town. In
the home of Captain Brandon, the only meat to be had was the salt pork
and beef in the cellar, or the flounders caught by Mark Antony,
fishing from the wharves.

Even General Gage could have no great variety of food. In contrast to
this, Tom Brandon and his fellow soldiers were living luxuriously,
having fresh beef three times a week, with flour, peas, beans, rice,
potatoes, onions, cabbages, turnips, beets, spruce beer, and grog, and
plenty of tobacco.

Tom took his turn standing guard, and found pleasure in chaffing the
lobsters on picket, telling them what he had for dinner. A thought
came to him,--to write a letter and hire a redcoat to take it to his
father. He wrote about the battle; how he saw the family on the roof
of the house, from the redoubt, just before it began; how he escaped;
how Robert Walden went down in the thick of the fight and probably had
been buried with the others somewhere on Bunker Hill. The Britisher
gladly agreed to take the letter to Copp's Hill for the plug of
tobacco which Tom gave him.

Mark Antony, the following afternoon, wondered what the soldier who
was rattling the knocker on the front door might want.

"Here's a letter for your master, Captain Brandon. One of the rebs
gave it to me. Maybe it's from his son," said the soldier.

"A letter from Massa Tom," shouted the negro, dancing into the
sitting-room.

Captain Brandon thanked the soldier, and told Mark Antony to mix a
toddy for him.

It was gratifying to know that Tom was safe, but sad the information
that Lieutenant Walden was numbered among the killed.

* * * * *

The fair brow of Ruth Newville through the summer months had been
growing whiter day by day.

"I fear she is not well," said Mr. Newville.

"The battle, the burning of Charlestown,--the terrible spectacle was
too much for her nerves," Mrs. Newville replied.

"Ought we not to call in the doctor?"

"No, she is not sick; you know how sympathetic she is. Don't you
remember what she said when she saw the town in flames,--even speaking
disrespectfully of General Gage, and swooning when the king's troops
won the victory. The burning of so many houses has unstrung her
nerves.