r hour--you know the terms of my apprenticeship were that he
should give me a home."

"Then what do you intend to do, Hardy?" and now Amos began to display
some concern.

"I shall walk to Salem, where my parents live, if I cannot find other
work here. I am afraid when people know it was through me that the
trouble began at the Custom House, they will feel as Master Piemont
does, and refuse to hire me."

"You can't walk to Salem to-night. Where will you sleep?"

"That makes no difference. If you will only be friendly with me, Amos,
I can get along somehow."

"You shall go home with me, Hardy, and after the excitement has died
away people will begin to realise that you are not as much to blame as
now appears. Even Jim Gray will see the matter in another light, as
soon as his grief has subsided."

With this reconciliation it is necessary, because the purpose of this
book is finished, to bid adieu to the boys whom we have met under the
Liberty Tree, for in nowise would the incidents of their lives
interest the reader, until after the lapse of many months, when we
may, perchance, meet them again, while relating certain events
connected with the Siege of Boston.

* * * * *

The following is taken from Arthur Gilman's "Story of Boston."

"Before the troops could be removed, on the following Thursday,
March 8th, the funerals of the slain were celebrated with all the
pomp that Boston was capable of displaying at the time. The
assemblage was the 'largest ever known'; the bells were tolled in
Boston, Cambridge, Roxbury, Charlestown; the bodies of Caldwell
and Attucks, the friendless ones among the victims, were taken to
Faneuil Hall, Maverick's was borne from his mother's home, on
Union Street, and that of Gray from his brother's on Royal
Exchange Lane. The four hearses formed a junction on the fatal
King Street, and thence the procession continued, six deep, to
the Middle, or Granary Burying-ground, where the bodies were
solemnly laid in a single grave. Thus, the last view that the
retreating soldiers had of King Street was marked by the passage
of thousands of Bostonians, doing honour to the men whose taunts
and insults had goaded them beyond endurance, and they felt the
humiliation of their situation as they gave way before the
successful 'bullies' of the little town, who had put them to
flight. I