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Where the Episcopal Theological School now stands on Brattle Street there was formerly a sort of tenement-house; and one day, as we were taking a stroll before dinner, we noticed three small boys with dirty faces standing at the corner of the building; and just then one of them cried out: "Oh, see; here he comes!" And immediately Longfellow appeared leaving the gate of Craigie House.
"You know that chapel they are building, Mr. Brattle, just opposite to the parson's gate?" Mr. Brattle replied that he had heard of the chapel, but had never, as yet, been up to see it. "Indeed; but you remember the bit of ground?" Yes; the miller remembered the ground very well. Man and boy he had known it for sixty years.
He did not exactly scold the bishop, but he expressed very plainly his opinion that the Church of England was going to the dogs, because a bishop had not the power of utterly abolishing any clergyman who might be guilty of an offence against so distinguished a person as the Marquis of Trowbridge. But what was to be done about Carry Brattle? Mrs.
There is the Old North, pealing suddenly out!—there, the Old South strikes in!—now, the peal comes from the church in Brattle street!—the bells of nine or ten steeples are all flinging their iron voices, at once, upon the morning breeze! Is it joy or alarm? There goes the roar of a cannon, too! A royal salute is thundered forth.
In 1713 there was sent to America an English organ, "a pair of organs" it was called, which had chanced, by being at the manufacturers instead of in a church, to have escaped the general destruction by the Round-heads. It was given by Thomas Brattle to the Brattle Street Church in Boston.
"The personal countenance and friendship of some friend that loves her. You love your sister, Mr. Brattle?" "I don't know as I does, Muster Fenwick." "You used to, and you must still pity her." "She's been and well-nigh broke the hearts of all on us. There wasn't one of us as wasn't respectable, till she come up; and now there's Sam. But a boy as is bad ain't never so bad as a girl."
I had greatly hoped," he added meaningly, "that you might be able to throw some light on this mystery." I was dumb. "Paret," he asked, "have you time to come over to my rooms for a few minutes this evening?" "Certainly, sir." He gave me his number in Brattle Street....
In christening a child the minister is liable to forget the name, just at the moment when he ought to remember it. My father preached occasionally at the Brattle Street Church. I take this for granted, for I remember going with him on one occasion when he did so.
The leading policeman, who still had charge of the case, expressed himself as sure that the old woman at Pycroft Common knew nothing of her son's whereabouts; but he had always declared, and still continued to declare, that Sam Brattle could tell them the whole story of the murder if he pleased, and there had been a certain amount of watching kept on the young man, much to his own disgust, and to that of his father.
There was one point on which he could not quite make up his mind; whether he would or would not first acquaint old Mrs. Brattle with his intention. He had left home early, and when he returned his wife had received Mary Lowther's reply to her letter. "She will come?" asked Frank. "She just says that and nothing more." "Then she'll be Mrs. Gilmore." "I hope so, with all my heart," said Mrs.
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