STORIES
OF
GENERAL WARREN.
When Gen. Warren's mother first saw him after his escapefrom the Battle of Lexington, she entreated him, with tears in her eyes,not again to risk a life so dear to her, and so necessary to hiscountry. "Wherever danger is, dear mother," was his reply, "there mustyour son be, now is no time for one of America's children to shrinkfrom the most hazardous duty. I will either see my country free, orshed my last drop of blood to make her so...." p. 51.
IN RELATION TO THE
FIFTH OF MARCH MASSACRE,
AND THE
BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.
BY A LADY OF BOSTON.
BOSTON:
JAMES LORING, 132 WASHINGTON STREET.
1835.
Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1835,
BY JAMES LORING,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.
The author of the following little sketch has often heard the questionasked, "What did Gen. Warren do to deserve all that has been said abouthim?" "Did he do any thing more than fight bravely, and get killed onthe day of the battle of Bunker Hill?" To answer these questions, and toshow, that although it was much for him to sacrifice his life for hiscountry, yet that was not all he did; that he had toiled nobly formany years in her cause, before a drop of blood had been shed toaccomplish her freedom, has been the principal object in writing it.
For some of the facts, she is indebted to those who have before writtenon the subject; but many of them have never before[Pg 8] been published; nordoes she think any but the closing one of his death is very generallyknown.
Another object has been, to place the leading causes of the Revolutionin so strong and clear a light, and in such simple language, that everychild may comprehend them as soon as he can read.
It has also been her design so to delineate the leading traits of Gen.Warren's character, as to show that his patriotism was not a suddenstart of enthusiasm, but had long been a guiding principle of action.
If the writer has succeeded in deepening in any young mind, theimpression of the debt of gratitude we owe the authors of our freeinstitutions, or if the following pages should lead any one to think andread more on the subject, she will feel amply rewarded for all thetrouble bestowed on them.
As Mary Montague and her mother were one morning sitting at work, by acheerful fire, William, a boy about nine years old, ran in exclaiming,Oh dear mother! I'm so tired I don't know what to do.
Mrs. Montague. Why, my son, what has tired you so much?
William....