several young men passed
by the town-house, and walked down King Street. The sentinel was still on
his post, in front of the custom-house, pacing to and fro, while, as he
turned, a gleam of light, from some neighboring window, glittered on the
barrel of his musket. At no great distance were the barracks and the
guard-house, where his comrades were probably telling stories of battle
and bloodshed.

Down towards the custom-house, as I told you, came a party of wild young
men. When they drew near the sentinel, he halted on his post, and took his
musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet at their breasts.

"Who goes there?" he cried, in the gruff, peremptory tones of a soldier's
challenge.

The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they had a right to walk
their own streets, without being accountable to a British red-coat, even
though he challenged them in King George's name. They made some rude
answer to the sentinel. There was a dispute, or, perhaps a scuffle. Other
soldiers heard the noise, and ran hastily from the barracks, to assist
their comrade. At the same time, many of the town's-people rushed into
King Street, by various avenues, and gathered in a crowd round about the
custom-house. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude had started up, all
of a sudden.

The wrongs and insults, which the people had been suffering for many
months, now kindled them into a rage. They threw snow-balls and lumps of
ice at the soldiers. As the tumult grew louder, it reached the ears of
Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight
soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They
marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd,
and pricking the town's-people with their bayonets.

A gentleman, (it was Henry Knox, afterwards general of the American
artillery,) caught Captain Preston's arm.

"For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, take heed what you do, or here
will be bloodshed."

"Stand aside!" answered Captain Preston, haughtily. "Do not interfere,
sir. Leave me to manage the affair."

Arriving at the sentinel's post, Captain Preston drew up his men in a
semi-circle, with their faces to the crowd and their rear to the
custom-house. "When the people saw the officer, and beheld the threatening
attitude with which the soldiers fronted them, their rage became almost
uncontrollable.

"Fire, you lobster-backs!" bellowed some.

"You dare not fire,