Then Grandfather amused his children and himself, with fancying all the different sorts of people who had occupied our chair, while they awaited the leisure of the barber.

There was the old clergyman, such as Dr. Chauncey, wearing a white wig, which the barber took from his head, and placed upon a wig-block.  Half an hour, perhaps, was spent in combing and powdering this reverend appendage to a clerical skull.  There too, were officers of the continental army, who required their hair to be pomatumed and plastered, so as to give them a bold and martial aspect.  There, once in a while, was seen the thin, care-worn, melancholy visage of an old tory, with a wig that, in times long past, had perhaps figured at a Province House ball.  And there, not unfrequently, sat the rough captain of a privateer, just returned from a successful cruise, in which he had captured half a dozen richly laden vessels, belonging to King George’s subjects.  And, sometimes, a rosy little school-boy climbed into our chair, and sat staring, with wide-open eyes, at the alligator, the rattlesnake, and the other curiosities of the barber’s shop.  His mother had sent him, with sixpence in his hand, to get his glossy curls cropped off.  The incidents of the Revolution plentifully supplied the barber’s customers with topics of conversation.  They talked sorrowfully of the death of General Montgomery, and the failure of our troops to take Quebec; for the New Englanders were now as anxious to get Canada from the English, as they had formerly been to conquer it from the French.

“But, very soon,” said Grandfather, “came news from Philadelphia, the most important that America had ever heard of.  On the 4th of July, 1776, Congress had signed the Declaration of Independence.  The thirteen colonies were now free and independent states.  Dark as our prospects were, the inhabitants welcomed these glorious tidings, and resolved to perish, rather than again bear the yoke of England!”

“And I would perish too!” cried Charley.

“It was a great day—­a glorious deed!” said Laurence, coloring high with enthusiasm.  “And, Grandfather, I love to think that the sages in Congress showed themselves as bold and true as the soldiers in the field.  For it must have required more courage to sign the Declaration of Independence, than to fight the enemy in battle.”

Grandfather acquiesced in Laurence’s view of the matter.  He then touched briefly and hastily upon the prominent events of the Revolution.  The thunder-storm of war had now rolled southward, and did not again burst upon Massachusetts, where its first fury had been felt.  But she contributed her full share to the success of the contest.  Wherever a battle was fought—­whether at Long Island, White Plains, Trenton, Princeton, Brandywine, or German-town—­some of her brave sons were found slain upon the field.