To recount these affairs would be a mere repetition of identical occurrences. On their second Sunday excursion he had actually driven her, despite her opposition, several miles on the Boston road; and her resistance only served to inflame him the more. It seemed, afterwards, as she sat unnerved, a miracle that she had stopped him.
I am quite sure that coming and going he passed through Boston merely as an unknown traveller." Mr. Lincoln writes to his wife from Exeter, N.H., March 4, 1860, as follows: "I have been unable to escape this toil. If I had foreseen it, I think I would not have come East at all.
I'll find some way out." "There is no way out, Tunis," she said confidently. "Cat's-foot! Don't say that," he cried in exasperation. "There is always a way out of every jam." "This girl will do one of two things," said Sheila firmly. "Either she will prove her claim, or she will give up and go back to Boston. You know that." "She'll fight hard, I guess" he admitted.
Then, in lieu of anything better, she takes some white flannel-silk, not embroidery-silk, you understand, but flannel-silk, harder twisted and stronger, such as is to be found, so far as I have tried, only in Boston, and therewith endeavors to down the curled sole to its appropriate sphere, or rather plane. It is not the easiest or the most agreeable work in the world.
The King, overwhelmed by the powers in alliance against him, can no longer reinforce our army here. The English fleet is supreme for the moment only, I hope!" added the Governor, as if with a prevision of his own future triumphs on the ocean. "English troops are pouring into New York and Boston, to combine with the militia of New England and the Middle Colonies in a grand attack upon New France.
A great crowd in a state of eager excitement besieged the doors, and presently a man mounted on a lamp-post read the words, "Sebastopol is taken! The Russian fleet burnt! Eighteen thousand killed and wounded. Loss of the Allies, two thousand five hundred." This news had been telegraphed from Boston, and surely the trembling tongue of steel had never before told such a bloody tale.
Again he resolved to fly for safety; and his friend advised him to go to Boston. A vessel from that place was then lying in the Delaware, and the merchant who had charge of her, pitying his forlorn situation, offered him a passage free of expense. Kindness bestowed on him was always like good seed dropped into a rich soil.
Also she bade her husband don his newest and best. She did the same, and when Captain Dan, painfully conscious of a pair of tight shoes, entered the drawing-room he found her already there. "My!" he exclaimed, regarding her with admiration, "you do look fine, Serena. Is that the one the Boston dressmaker made?" "Yes. I'm glad you like it." "Couldn't help likin' it.
The works at Boston, New York, Baltimore, Norfolk, Charleston, and Niagara have been in part repaired, and the coast of North Carolina, extending south to Cape Fear, has been examined, as have likewise other parts of the coast eastward of Boston.
The next ten years, until the Revolution, he spent in peace on his farm. Just before that war began he drove a flock of sheep all the way to Boston for the people there who were in distress. "The old hero, Putnam," says a letter written from Boston in August, 1774, "arrived in town on Monday bringing with him 130 sheep from the little parish of Brooklyn.