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Updated: June 19, 2025
A tablet in the wall of the Old South Church at Copley Square, Boston, records his death at the age of seventy-five, March, 1701. He was an original member of this church. Perhaps Priscilla varied her peaceful life by visits to this affluent son in Boston. There is no evidence of the date of Priscilla Alden's death or the place of her burial.
In Alden's right hand glinted a service-revolver. But already the attacker the stowaway had snatched a pistol from his belt. And, as he plunged at full drive down the take-off platform, he thrust the pistol forward. Almost at point-blank range, howling maledictions, he hurled a murderous fusillade at the Master of the now swiftly falling Eagle of the Sky.
The wild bunch will handle every case that turns up if that rumor is true." "The sheriff has never been able to pick up a single one of the men who have burned those squatters out," she said. "And he never will without some help," Harris agreed. "Alden's hands are tied. He's only an ornament right now and folks have come to believe he's real harmless.
"That looks bad," said Will's tutor, who had now joined the assembly and was standing beside Will Phelps. "We've a quick team, but I'm afraid of Alden's weight. They've two or three men who ought not to be permitted to play, anyway." "Professionals?" inquired Will. "Yes, or worse." "Have we any on our team?" "Hardly," laughed the senior.
But there was something in Debby Alden's manner which touched her. The Fraulein was a stranger in a strange land. Many and many were the times when she longed for the tenderness of those who were bound to her by the ties of love and blood. She was but a little homesick girl, herself and wished to be mothered like other girls. But she was brave enough with all her longing.
Underhill was put on her mettle by hearing about Mrs. Alden's rye bread; and the very next week she made some quite as splendid. Hanny displayed her sprig of hawthorn, real hawthorn. "Are you sure it isn't artificial?" asked Jim, teasingly. "An artificial branch can't grow," she said indignantly.
I wish to state that, although Miss Morton has delivered the valedictory, Miss Phyllis Alden's average during the four years she has spent at my preparatory school has been equally high. It was her wish that Miss Morton should be chosen to deliver the valedictory. But Miss Alden's friends have another honor which they wish to bestow upon her.
Then she added, convincingly: "You know Alden's never been to see me but once, and I haven't even a tintype of him, and yet we're going to be married." "That's so. I hadn't thought of that. I guess you're right." Then she added, generously, "I'm glad you're goin' to be married, Rosemary, and I hope you'll be happy. You've got it comin' to you."
"It's as new a gown as I'll ever have," she returned, trying to keep her voice even. "My wardrobe consists of an endless parade of brown alpaca and brown gingham garments, all made exactly alike." "Like a dozen stage soldiers, marching in and out, to create the illusion of a procession?" "I suppose so. You know I've never seen a stage, much less a stage soldier." Alden's heart softened with pity.
And the odd bits of furniture that had been used at our General's headquarters had been taken there to eke out with rough make-shifts, fashioned by Alden's men, a very scanty establishment for these three ladies. Lana Helmer, to my surprise, motioned me to walk beside her; and all the way to Croghan's house she continued close to me, seeming to purposely avoid Boyd.
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