the evening of
the year. He looked back when he had taken a few steps. He was nearly
seventy years of age. Yet his great work of life was before him--it was
yet to do, while white-haired Jenny should count the hours on the clock
of time.

Sam Adams had grasped the idea that the appeal to arms must end in the
independence of the colonies. Franklin saw the rising star of the
destiny of the union of the colonies to secure justice from the crown.
He left Boston to give his whole soul to this great end.

The next day they went out to Tuft's Hill and looked down on the
encamped town, the war ships, and the sea. It was an Indian summer. The
trees were scarlet, the orchards were laden with fruit, and the fields
were yellow with corn.

Over the blue sea rose the Castle, now gone. The smoke from many British
camps curled up in the still, sunny air.

The Providence House Indian (now at the farm of the late Major Ben
Perley Poore) gleamed over the roofs of the State House and its
viceregal signs, which are now as then. Boston was three hills then, and
the whole of the town did not appear as clearly from the hills on the
west--the Sunset Hills--as now.

"Jenny, liberty is the right of mankind, and the cause of liberty is the
cause of mankind," said Franklin. "Why should England hold provinces in
America to whom she will allow no voice in her councils, whose people
she may tax and condemn to prisons and death at the will of the king? I
have told you my heart. America has the right of freedom, and the
colonies must be free!"

They walked along the cool hill ways, and he looked longingly back at
the glimmering town.

"Beloved Boston!" he said. "So thou wilt ever be to me!" He turned to
his sister: "I used to tell my day dreams to you--they have come true,
in part. I have been thinking again. If the colonies could be made free,
and I were to be left a rich man, I would like to make a gift to the
schools of Boston, whose influence would live as long as they shall
last. Sister, I was too poor in my boyhood to answer the call of the
school bells. I would like to endow the schools there with a fund for
gifts or medals that would make every boy happy who prepares himself
well for the work of life, be he rich or poor. I would like also to
establish there a fund to help young apprentices, and to open public
places of education and enjoyment which would be free to all people."

"You are Silence Dogood still," said Mrs. Mecom. "Day dre