s over, for one reason," said she. "I'm
pretty much tired of drinking sage tea, for one, I know."

"Well, Aunt Hitty, how you scolded that pedler last week, that brought
along that real tea!"

"To be sure I did. S'pose I'd be taking any of his old tea, bought of
the British?--fling every teacup in his face first."

"Well, mother," said Dick, "I never exactly understood what it was about
the tea, and why the Boston folks threw it all overboard."

"Because there was an unlawful tax laid upon it, that the government had
no right to lay. It wasn't much in itself; but it was a part of a whole
system of oppressive meanness, designed to take away our rights, and
make us slaves of a foreign power."

"Slaves!" said Dick, straightening himself proudly. "Father a slave!"

"But they would not be slaves! They saw clearly where it would all end,
and they would not begin to submit to it in ever so little," said the
mother.

"I wouldn't, if I was they," said Dick.

"Besides," said his mother, drawing him towards her, "it wasn't for
themselves alone they did it. This is a great country, and it will be
greater and greater; and it's very important that it should have free
and equal laws, because it will by and by be so great. This country, if
it is a free one, will be a light of the world--a city set on a hill,
that cannot be hid; and all the oppressed and distressed from other
countries shall come here to enjoy equal rights and freedom. This, dear
boy, is why your father and uncles have gone to fight, and why they do
stay and fight, though God knows what they suffer, and----" and the
large blue eyes of the mother were full of tears; yet a strong, bright
beam of pride and exultation shone through those tears.

"Well, well, Roxy, you can always talk, every body knows," said Aunt
Hitty, who had been not the least attentive listener of this little
patriotic harangue; "but, you see, the tea is getting cold, and yonder I
see the sleigh is at the door, and John's come; so let's set up our
chairs for supper."

The chairs were soon set up, when John, the eldest son, a lad of about
fifteen, entered with a letter. There was one general exclamation, and
stretching out of hands towards it. John threw it into his mother's lap;
the tea table was forgotten, and the tea kettle sang unnoticed by the
fire, as all hands crowded about mother's chair to hear the news. It was
from Captain Ward, then in the American army, at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ward