“No, I have had none, Mr. Swain,” I exclaimed.  For I would not be thought a hypocrite.

There I stopped.  A light step sounded in the hall, and Patty came in upon us.  Her colour at once betrayed her understanding.  To my infinite relief her father dropped my fingers, and asked cheerily if there was any news from the town meeting.

On the following Wednesday, with her flag flying and her sails set, the Peggy Stewart was run ashore on Windmill Point.  She rose, a sacrifice to Liberty, in smoke to heaven, before the assembled patriots of our city.

That very night a dear friend to Liberty passed away.  He failed so suddenly that Patty had no time to call for aid, and when the mother had been carried in, his spirit was flown.  We laid him high on the hill above the creek, in the new lot he had bought and fenced around.  The stone remains: 

Here LIETH

Henry Swain, barrister. 
Born may 13, 1730 (O.S.);
Died October 19, 1774. 
Fidus Amicis atque Patrice.

The simple inscription, which speaks volumes to those who knew him, was cut after the Revolution.  He was buried with the honours of a statesman, which he would have been had God spared him to serve the New Country which was born so soon after his death.