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love which had invariably secured their allegiance to the mother country, whether its head chanced to be a Parlianient, Protector, or Popish Monarch. Till these evil times, however, such allegiance had been merely nominal, and the colonists had ruled themselves, enjoying far more freedom, than is even yet the privilege of the native subjects of Great Britain.

At length, a rumor reached our shores that the Prince of Orange had ventured on an enterprise, the success of which would be the triumph of civil and religious rights and the salvation of New England. It was but a doubtful whisper; it might be false, or the attempt might fail ; and, in either case, the man, that stirred against King James, would lose his head. Still the intelligence produced a marked effect. The people smiled mysteriously in the streets, and threw bold glances at their oppressors ; while, far and wide, there was a subdued and silent agitation, as if the slightest signal would rouse the whole land from its sluggish despondency. Aware of their danger, the rulers resolved to avert it by an imposing display of strength, and perhaps to confirm their despotism by yet harsher measures. One afternoon in April, 1689, Sir Edmund Andros and his favorite councillors, being warm with wine, assembled the red-coats of the Governor's Guard, and made their appearance in the streets of Boston. The sun was near setting when the march commenced.

The roll of the drum, at that unquiet crisis, seemed to go through the streets, less as the martial music of the soldiers, than as a muster call to the inhabitants themselves. A multitude, by various avenues, assem.


oled in King Street, which was destined to be the
scene, nearly a century afterwards, of another en-
counter between the troops of Britain, and a pe sple
struggling against her tyranny. Though more than
sixty years had elapsed, since the Pilgrims came, this
crowd of their descendants still showed the strong and
sombre features of their character, perhaps more
strikingly in such a stern emergency than on happier
uccasions. There were the sober garb, the genera
severity of mien, the gloomy but undismayed expres-
sion, the scriptural forms of speech, and the confi-
dence in Heaven's blessing on a righteous cause,
which would have marked a band of the original
Purita ns, when threatened by some peril of the wilder-
ness. Indeed, it was not yet time for the old spirit
to be extinct ; since there were men in the street, that
day who had worshipped there beneath the trees,
befoe a house was reared to the God for whom they
had become exiles. Old soldiers of the Parliament
were here, too, smiling grimly at the thought, that
their aged arms might strike another blow against
the house of Stuart. Here, also, were the veterans
of King Philip's war, who had burned villages and
slaughtered young and old, with pious fierceness,
while the godly souls throughout the land were help-
ing them with prayer.

Several ministers were scat-
tered among the crowd, which, unlike all other mobs,
regarded them with such reverence, as if there were
sanctity in their very garments. These holy men
exerted their influence to quiet the people, but not
to disperse them. Meantime, the purpose of the
Governor, in disturbing the peace of the town, at



a period when the slightest commotion might throw the country into a ferment, was almost the universal subject of inquiry, and variously explained.

“Satan will strike his master stroke presently,'cried some, “because he knoweth that his time is short All our godly pastors are to be dragged to prison ! We shall see them at a Smithfield fire in King Street!'

Hereupon the people of each parish gathered closer round their minister, who looked calmly upwards and ase, umed a more apostolic dignity, as well befitted a candidate for the highest honor of his profession, the crown of martyrdom. It was actually fancied, at that period, that New England might have a John Rogers of her own, to take the place of that worthy in the Primer.

• The Pope of Rome has given orders for a new St. Bartholomew !' cried others. • We are to be

ssacred, man and male child!'

Neither was this rumor wholly discredited, although the wiser class believed the Governor's object somewhat less atrocious. His predecessor under the old charter, Bradstreet, a venerable companion of the first settlers, was known to be in town.

There were grounds for conjecturing, that Sir Edmund Andros intended, at once, to strike terror, by a parade of military force, and to confound the opposite faction by possessing himself of their chief.

• Stand firm for the old charter Governor !' shouted the crowd, seizing upon the idea. • The good old Governor Bradstreet!'

While this cry was at the loudest, the people were


surprised by the well-known figure of Governor Bradstreet himself, a patriarch of nearly ninety, who appeared on the elevated steps of a door, and, with characteristic mildness, besought them to submit to the constituted authorities.

My children,' concluded this venerable person, do nothing rashly. Cry not aloud, but pray for the welfare of New England, and expect patiently what the Lord will do in this matter!'

The event was soon to be decided. All this time, the roll of the drum had been approaching through Cornhill, louder and deeper, till with reverberations from house to house, and the regular tramp of martial footsteps, it burst into the street. A double rank of soldiers made their appearance, occupying the whole breadth of the passage, with shouldered matchlocks, and matches burning, so as to present a row of fire-s in the dusk. Their steady march was like the progress of a machine, that would roll irresistibly over every thing in its way. Next, moving slowly, with a confused clatter of hoofs on the pavement, rode a party of mounted gentlemen, the central figure being Sir Edmund Andros, elderly, but erect and soldier-like. Those around him were his favorite colincillors, and the bitterest foes of New England. At his right hand rode Edward Randolph, our archenemy, that “blasted wretch,' as Cotton Mather calls him, who achieved the downfall of our ancient gov. ernment, and was followed with a sensible curse, through life and to his grave. On the other side was Bullivant, scattering jests and mockery as he rode along. Dudley came behind, with a downcast look

dreading, as well he might, to meet the indignant gaze of the people, who beheld him, their only countryman toy birth, among the oppressors of his native land. The captain of a frigate in the harbor, and two or three civil officers under the Crown, were also there. But the figure which most attracted the public eye, and stirred up the deepest feeling, was the Episcopal clergyman of King's Chapel, riding haughtily among the magistrates in his priestly vestments, the fitting representative of prelacy and persecution, the union of church and state, and all those abominations which had driven the Puritans to the wilderness. Another guard of soldiers, in double rank, brought up the rear.

The whole scene was a picture of the condition of New England, and its moral, the deformity of any government that does not grow out of the nature of things and the character of the people. On one side the religious multitude, with their sad visages and dark attire, and on the other, the group of despotic rulers, with the high churchman in the midst, and here and there a crucifix at their bosoms, all magnifi cently clad, flushed with wine, proud of unjust authority, and scoffing at the universal groan. And the mercenary soldiers, waiting but the word to deluge the street with blood, showed the only means by which obedience could be secured.

• O Lord of Hosts, cried a voice among the crowd, provide a Champion for thy people!'

This ejaculation was loudly uttered, and served as a herald's cry, to introduce a remarkable personnge. The crowd had rolled back, and were now huddled



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