The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1876-09-15
mi is O eIIane us.
Pussy Deans Beacon Fire.

A hundred years ago the winds of March
were blowing.
To-day the same winds rush by the stone
memorials and sweep across the low mounds
that securely cover the men and the women
that then were alive to chill blasts and
stirring events. Even the lads that gathered
at the sound of drum and fife on village
green, wishing, as they saw the troopers
march, that they were men, and the little
girls who hung about fathers neck because
he was going off to war, who watched the
post-rlders on their course, wishing that
they knew the news they carried, are no
longer with us.
For nearly two years Boston had been
the lost town of the people. 1t had been
taken from the children by an unkind
father and given to strangers. You have
been told how British ships came and
closed the harbor, so that food and riament
could not enter. You know how grandly
the younger sister towns behaved toward
stately, hungry Boston; how they marched
up the narrow neck of land that holds back
the town from the sea, each and every one
bearing gifts to the beloved town, until
that sad and fatal day wherein British
military lines turned back the tide of offer
Then it was that friends began 70 gather
across the rivers that wound their waters
around Boston. Presently an army grew
up and stationed itself, with leaders and
banners and forts.
Summer came. The army waited through
all the long warm days. The summer
went; the leaves fell the chill winds and
the cold sea-fogs wound into and out of
the poor little tents, and struck the brave
men who, having no tents tried to he
strong and endure.
Every child knows, or ought to know,
the story of that winter, how day by day
all over New England, men were striving
to gather firearms and powder wherewith
to take back from the foe poor Boston,
But, alas there was not powder enough
in all the land to do it.
The long, wearying winter had done
its worst for the imprisoned inhabitants
| about the town; and truly it had tried and
pinched the waiting friends who stood at
the gates.
At last, in March, in the night, the
brave helpers climbed the hills, built on
them smaller hills, and by the light of the
morning were able to look over into the
town, at which the patriots were glad and
the British commander frightened.
A little after nine of the clock on Sunday
morning, the 18th of March, l776, three
Narraganset ponies stood before Gen.
Washington's headquarters at Cambridge.
$50 with all possible speed to Governor
Trumbull," said Washington. delivering
dispatches to well known and trusted
messenger, who instantly mounted one of
the ponies in misunderstanding Wind by
name-and rode away, with a sharp and
inquiring glance back at city and river and
camp.
| 1t was four of the clock in the afternoon,
and the messenger had not paused since he
set forth, longer than to give Sweeping
Wind water to drink, when, on the high
way in the distance, he saw a red cloak
fluttering and flying before him.
1t was Pussy Dean who wore the cloak
She was fifteen, fair and lovely, brave and
patriotic as any soldier in the land.
AT first she was angry at the law by
which she was denied new cloak that
winter, made of English fabric, but when
wrapped in the coveted broadcloth OF
scarlet belonging to her mother, she was
more than reconcilcd.
On this Sunday Pussy had been at the
meeting house on the hill, two miles from
home, at both morning and afternoon
service, and afterward had fingered little
to gather up bits of news from camp and
town to take home to her mother, and so
it had happened that she was quite alone
on the highway.
Pussy CHANGED to look back to the sum-
nit of the hill down which she had walk.
ed, and she saw the express coming.
"Now," she thought, if l could only
stop him wonder if can't. I'll try
and them swinging her sikcn bag"
shall have news to carry home, the very
latest, too"
AS she swung the bag, she suddenly re.
membered that she had something within
it to offer the rider.
"Of course, can" she went on saying
to herself. "Post-riders are always hungry
and it's lucky for him that didn't hay,
to eat my dinner myself to-day. Now, i
l only had u basketful of clover heads o.
roses for that pony, I'd find out all abou
Boston while he was eating"
The only roses in sight were blooming
on Pussy Deans two cheeks as Sweeping
Wind came Gathering his shoes against tn
frozen ground. He would have gon
straight on had scatlct cloak not beef
planted, like flnttering standard, full il
his pathway.
I The rider gave the pony the slightes
possible check, since he felt sure that NJ
relocated soldier lurked behind the re,
; cloak.
UTake sOmethino To eat won't you &