hardly formed, when we saw the red-coats coming up only about a quarter of a mile off. Our officers held a short council. Some were for making a bold stand where we were; but the greater number said it would be best to retreat till we were reinforced. Accordingly, the back-out advice was adopted, and we retreated over the North Bridge, about a mile from the common. I saw the royals come up and enter Concord in two divisions. Soon after, some of their companies took possession of the bridges, while the others hunted the stores. About sixty barrels of flour were broken open, a large quantity of cannon-balls thrown into the wells, the liberty-pole cut down, and the court-house set on fire. But the greater part of the stores were saved. In the meantime, the minute-men had come in from Acton, Carlisle, Weston, Littleton, and all around, and our force swelled to about four hundred men. I tell you, when the men saw the houses in Concord burning, they got a leetle excited—they did. Adjutant Hosmer made a speech to them, and they wanted to go right down and attack the red-coats at the North Bridge. Our company was very anxious to go, and it was settled that the attack should be made. Major John Buttrick took command, and ordered us to follow. There was about three hundred of us, the Acton company, under Captain Isaac Davis, taking the lead. We marched in double file, with trailed arms. I felt anxious to have a good fire at the rascals. They were on the west side of the river; but when they saw us coming, they crossed over and commenced pulling up the planks of the bridge. Major Buttrick called out to them to quit, and told us to hurry on to save the bridge. The red-coats formed for action, and, when we were near the bridge, fired a few shots at us. Captain Davis and Adjutant Hosmer were killed, and one Acton man wounded. Davis and Hosmer were both brave men, and they died like heroes. Seeing these men fall, Major Buttrick called out, 'Fire, for God's sake, men, fire!' and we did pour a volley into the redcoats. I brought down one man, and he never got up again. We were getting ready to give them another, when the cowards retreated. We found three of the enemy had been killed, and the Acton company took several of the wounded prisoners. I saw a mere boy, with a hatchet in his hand, run up to a Britisher who wasn't quite dead, and kill him with one blow. That I didn't like, though the boy's spirit and courage pleased me."
"It was butchery," said Pitts.
"So it was," replied Kinnison; "and it caused a report to be spread that we killed and scalped all the men who fell into our hands. As I said, I didn't like it; but we had no time for thinking. The enemy saw how fast our men were coming in from all quarters, for, by that time, the whole province was aroused, and they thought it would be best to think of getting back to Boston. Well, they started from Concord about twelve o'clock. As the main body marched along the road, the flanking parties tried to cover them, but it was of little use. We followed, and kept picking off men from their rear, while it seemed as if there was a minuteman behind every fence or tree by the road. We didn't march under any regular orders, but each man tried to do all he could with his musket. I and two or three other Lebanon men kept together, and managed to pick off some men at every by-road. At one time, we just escaped the attack of a flanking party who killed some of the militia a short distance from us. We lay concealed in the bushes till they went by, and then followed them up as before. At two or three points, some companies of minute-men attacked the enemy in the open field, and killed a considerable number of them. When they reached Lexington they were almost worn out, and could not have marched much farther. Just then, we saw a large reinforcement of the red-coats, under Lord Percy, coming along the Roxbury road, and we had to hold off awhile. You ought to have seen those royals, how they lay stretched on the ground, with their tongues hanging out of their mouths. I got on the top of a stone barn, and saw Percy's men form a hollow square about Smith's troops, in order to protect them while they got a little breath. But they could not halt long. The woods were swarming with minute-men; and, if they waited, their retreat would have been cut off. Well, they started again, and our men followed as before, picking off men from the flanks and rear. At West Cambridge, we met Dr. Warren with a party of our men, and attacked the enemy boldly. But their bayonets kept us off, and we only roused 'em so much that they plundered and burnt some houses along the road, and butchered some women and children. Well, after a hard struggle, the enemy reached Charlestown, and then General Heath called us from the pursuit."
"I've read," remarked Mr. Hand, "that the British loss during that day was nearly three hundred—that is, including wounded and prisoners."
"It amounted to that, at least," replied Kinnison; "and our loss was less than one hundred men. I think the royals got a taste of our spirit that day."
"Here's a man can tell you something about the retreat of the enemy," said Pitts, pointing to one of the old men, named Jonas Davenport.
"Yes," said Jonas; "I know a little about it. I lived near Lexington. My house stood on the road. I joined the minute-men when I heard of the comin' of the British troops, and left my wife and two children home, under the care of my father, then about sixty. I told 'em to keep as quiet as possible and they would be safe. Well, as I said, I joined the minute-men, and, when the rascals retreated from Concord, followed and did some execution with my firelock. But one of 'em shot me in the shoulder, and I couldn't point my gun any more. I waited till the enemy had got a considerable distance on the road towards Boston, and then managed to reach my house—but such a house as I found it! The windows were broken in, the doors torn off their hinges, and the furniture broken and thrown about in heaps. I called for my father and wife, but received no reply. I crawled up stairs, for I was nearly exhausted from loss of blood, and there I found my father and oldest child stretched on the floor dead. The old man had his gun still clenched in his hand, and he had, no doubt, done the enemy some damage with it. But his face was beaten in, and he had two or three bayonet stabs in his breast. The little boy had been shot through the head. I was a pretty tough-hearted man, but I fainted at the sight; and, when I came to myself, I found my wife and the youngest child bending over me crying. How they did hug and kiss me when they saw me revive! I think I did as much to them, for I never expected to see them alive. My wife told me that the old man would fire at the British as they were passing the house, and some of them stopped, broke open the doors, and knocked the things about. The old man and the little boy ran up stairs, while my wife and the other child ran from the house towards a neighbor's. As she ran away, she heard the muskets fired, but couldn't stop, as she thought the rascals were after her. She had returned as soon as she knew they were far on the road. I didn't grieve long; but sent her for the doctor at Lexington to dress my wound. Boys, boys, I've made many a red-coat pay for the lives of that old man and child. I hated them enough before, but that day's work made me all gall!" The memory of gratified revenge lighted up the old man's eyes as he spoke. He was a man of stern spirit, and no thought that such revenge was wrong ever crossed his mind.
"I can tell you folks of something more about that retreat from Concord," continued Davenport. "The story is generally known up around the country here, but some of you may not have heard it. It's about old Hezekiah Wyman, who gained the name of 'Death on the pale horse.'"
"I heard the story, and saw the old man on his white horse," remarked Kinnison; "but it will interest the young men, no doubt—so drive on."
"Well, you see," began Davenport, "the window of old Hezekiah Wyman's house looked out on the ground where the British shot our men at Lexington. The old man saw the whole affair, and it made him so savage that he vowed to revenge his countrymen if he fell in doing it.
"'Wife,' said he, 'is there not an old gun-barrel somewhere in the garret.'
"'I believe there was,' said she; 'but pray what do you want with it?'
"'I should like to see if it is fit for service,' replied he. 'If I am not mistaken, it is good enough to drill a hole through a rig'lar.'
"'Mercy on me, husband! are you going mad? An old man like you—sixty years last November—to talk of going to war! I should think you had seen enough of fighting the British already. There lies poor Captain Roe and his men bleeding on the grass before your eyes. What could you do with a gun?'
"The old man made no reply, but ascended the stairs, and soon returned with a rusty barrel in his hands. In spite of his wife's incessant din, he went to his shop, made a stock for it, and put it in complete order for use. He then saddled a strong white horse, and mounted him. He gave the steed the rein, and directed his course toward Concord. He met the British troops returning, and was not long in perceiving that there was a wasp's nest about their ears. He dashed so closely