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CHAPTER XXII

CHELMSFORD CONTINUED. -- CONTAGION FROM THE ARMY. -- FORMATION OF THE GOVERNMENT BY THE PATRIOTS. -- STORY OF A PATRIOT SPINNER. -- PETER BROWN WRITES TO HIS MOTHER FROM CAMBRIDGE CAMP. -- MISS SUSAN BROWN TELLS THE STORY OF HER GRANDFATHER. -- THE FIRST BLOOD AT BUNKER HILL

      ALTHOUGH far removed from the seat of war, the town of Chelmsford was not exempt from the contagion which frequently visited the camp of the army. In the year 1776, a soldier returning from the army called at the home of Dr. Marshall for refreshment, as was the necessity of many weary men when making their journey on foot with empty purses. The physician was away during the call of the soldier, but upon his return detected evidence of the contagion in the atmosphere, which filled him with forebodings of evil. The worst was realized. The entire family took the smallpox, and Mrs. Marshall and two children died from the loathsome disease. In the following year Samuel Lufkin and his wife and Solomon Keyes died of the same disease, contracted in a similar way.

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      The old burying-ground of Chelmsford reminds one of this entailment of war. On one stone we read of Mrs. Hannah Fletcher, wife of Lieutenant Benj. Fletcher, who, with four children, perished within the space of two weeks in the autumn of 1778.

[Photo - "Fletcher Stone In Chelmsford"]

      While in the full enjoyment of our wisely instituted government, we hardly pause to think that our patriotic ancestors hesitated in its formation, and trembled at the experiment, even after they had fought to be free from the control of the mother country. It was easier to find the faults

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in the existing government than to point out the reliable remedy.
      Probably no period of our national history has been more perilous than that which intervened between the close of the Revolutionary war and the adoption of the Constitution.
      The Continental Congress, which was the result of an emergency, had done its work. The Articles of Confederation which followed were not sufficient; and it became apparent that a constitution must be formed by which the rights of each State would be protected, and also the interests of the whole be maintained. Then it was that every patriot so situated as to mould public opinion set to work to inform himself on governmental affairs. The patriotic ministers were looked to as guides; and it can be said to the honor of Rev. Mr. Bridge, that he made use of all light at his command, in order to be a wise counsellor to his people.
      He records, December 28, 1787, "Spent part of the day, as I have done several days, in reading Adams' book on government." In February, 1788, he records, "Much talk about Constitution of the government, its being adopted by the vote of the Convention which has been sitting in Boston just 4 weeks."
      We can but fancy the relief of the people, when, on March 4, 1789, the new government went into operation, and on the 30th of April following, when General George Washington, on the balcony

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of Federal Hall, New York, took the oath of office as the first president of the United States.
      It was by these hearth-stones, and others long since demolished, that the patriotic women of the towns kept busy during the years of the Revolution, in preparing the town's complement of blankets, stockings, etc., while thinking of the husband, father, brother, son, or lover who was away in service of his country.
      On January 4, 1776, the House of Representatives passed an order that four thousand blankets be provided by the selectmen of the respective towns in the Province, and be paid for out of the Province treasury. Chelmsford's portion was twelve. This was in the midst of that winter when the army was in camp at Cambridge, Medford, and Dorchester; and soldiers from the town were so near home that friends kept posted on their condition, and were continually going to camp with supplies. We can imagine with what earnestness the patriotic women went to work with their wheels and looms to prepare the garments ordered. Threads were saturated with tears from the eyes of those who had seen their loved ones go forth in response to the April alarm, and who never returned after the battle of Bunker Hill, but languished and died in Boston --so near and yet so far from those who longed to smooth their pillows and soothe their pains.
      We can see in fancy the patriotic minister, Rev.

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Mr. Bridge, going from house to house in his parish with his reports from camp, after returning from a visit to absent members of his flock. We can catch his words of cheer dropped here and there, and hear him in prayer commending them individually and collectively to the care of Him who notes the sparrow's fall.
      This service seemed to be for their own people; but in the following year, when the seat of war was removed from Massachusetts, there was a call for five thousand blankets, and Chelmsford's share was nineteen. There was no slackness on the part of the people, although they knew not who were to be protected from the severity of winter by their productions. It mattered not as long as they were acting in the patriot cause. Independence had been declared; and having pledged their sacred honor to maintain it, they had no inclination to halt, although the calls were often repeated.
      Only a few of the implements of domestic manufacture are retained in the old town, yet I chanced to meet with one which bears a suggestive inscription. It is a reel made of wood, and on it is read: --

"Miss Poley Carter Her Real March ye 6th 1777 Count your Threads Right If you real in the night."

      With this rude implement in my hand, seated by the hearth-stone where nine generations have

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sat, I gazed into the blazing fire on the hearth until there rose up before me the graceful figure of Polly Carter, dressed in her homespun frock, with a plaid kerchief neatly folded over her bosom. She is turning off the threads on the great wheel by the fire, while a stalwart young man from a neighboring farm stands by, thoughtfully carving with his jackknife the rude letters which, to his untutored mind, spell out the name of her in whom he has a tender interest. These he hopes

[Photo - "Polly Carter's Reel"]

will serve to remind Polly of him when he is far away in the service of his country.
      The scene changes to the following year, 1778, when the town was called upon for forty-seven shirts and as many pairs of shoes and stockings. The same gentle face appears, but with the lines of anxious care more plainly seen. She has reeled off her day's work of spinning, and is casting up the stitches for a stocking. Her eyes rest on the simple figures, which remind her of an evening less than a twelvemonth ago, but seems like years

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to her whose thoughts are of the bare and bleeding feet pacing the rough and frozen ground of Valley Forge. No stitch is dropped; and with each round of the needles there is breathed a prayer for the success of the patriot cause, and for the safe return of one whom she loves.
      The extremity to which the patriot army was reduced at times is evidenced by the course taken by the Chelmsford people to procure supplies[1] for the menin camp. A document purporting to be a subscription paper was found in the collection of Mr. Henry E. Parker. It reads as follows:--

      "We, the Inhabitants of the town of Chelmsford, Taking into consideration the Dificulties and Hardships which our Brethren endured and undergo that are in the service of the United States of America and in the defence of the United States of America and in the defence of the Rights & Priviliges of the people of said States, do agree to provide the articles set against our names."

      The name of Captain John Ford heads the list with the promise of "1 pr. shoes." Others follow with promise of shoes, stockings, shirts, jackets, and other articles of clothing.
      We have a most thrilling description of the battle of Bunker Hill, together with earlier and later experiences, in the letter written by Peter Brown to his mother.


[1] The absence of a date renders it uncertain as to time, but our inference is that the supplies were for the army at Valley Forge during the winter of 1777-8.

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CAMBRIDGE, June 25, 1775.

      Dear and Hon'd Mother, -- After my duty to you, I would inform you of my present state and employment, being rather scrupulous whether you may receive these lines, shall give but a short sketch of affairs which if otherwise I would. Before these long threat'ned difficulties began among us, I had plan'd out to go to Connecticut, where I expected to work the summer, but the Allwise in His providence hath very differently plann'd my summer's work, which I hope may turn to His Glory and my good. I suppose I need not acquaint you of the manner in which the enemy first approached us at Concord. It is more than probable you have had it in print long since. When I was first alarm'd I was at Westford, whither I went to take leave of my friends and settle some affairs that I had in hand. Was call'd about Daylight, or a little after, and rode as post that afternoon before I could get to Concord, after which I pursu'd with the rest and fought that day, tarried at Cambridge that night being forbid to go home. Soon after this there was an army establish'd, all business being stagnated, and a great deal wholly broke up. I did not know what I could do better than to enlist therefore being hearty in the Cause. I did it directly (and listed) under Captain Oliver Bates, in Collo. Prescott's regiment with whom I tarried awhile till he, our Captain, was taken sick and went home, when Mr. Joshua Parker, by succession, took his place, and makes his ground good, in whose company I remain yet, where I do a Clerk or Orderly Sergants business, which requires much care, but the Duty is easier and the pay higher than a private soldiers. Friday the 16th of June we were order'd on parade at six o'clock with one days provisions and Blankets ready for a march somewhere, but we knew not where, but we readily and cheerfully obey'd; the whole that were called for were these three: Collo. Prescott's, Fry's and Nickson's Regiments; after tarrying on parade till Nine at Night we march'd down on to Charleston Hill against Copts hill in Boston, where we

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entrench'd and made a Fort ten rod long and eight wide with a Breastwork of about eight more; we worked there undiscover'd till about five in the morning when we saw our danger being against Ships of the Line and all Boston fortified against us. The danger we were in made us think there was treachery and that we were brought there to be all slain, and I must and will say that there was treachery, oversight or presumption in the Conduct of our officers, for about 5 in the morning we not having more than half our fort done, they began to fire (I suppose as soon as they had orders) pretty briskly for a few minutes then ceas'd, but soon begun again, and fir'd to the number of twenty minutes (they kill'd but one of our men[1]) then ceas'd to fire till about eleven o'clock when they began to fire as brisk as ever, which caus'd many of our young Country people to desert, apprehending the danger in a clearer manner than others who were more diligent in digging & fortifying ourselves against them. We began to be almost beat out, being fatigued by our Labour, having no sleep the night before, very little to eat, no drink but rum, but what we hazarded our lives to get. We grew faint, thirsty, hungry and weary. The enemy fir'd very warm from Boston, and from on board their ships that lay in Ferryway and from a ship that lay in the river against us to stop our re-enforcement which they did in some measure; one cannon cut three men in two on the Neck. Our officers sent time after time for Cannon from Cambridge in the morning & could get but four, the Capt'n of which fir'd a few times then swung his Hat three times round to the enemy and ceased to fire, then about three o'clock there was a cessation of the Cannons roaring. Soon after we espied as many as 40 boats or barges coming over full of troops it is supposed there were about 3,000 of them, and about 700 of us left, not deserted, besides 500 re-enforcements that could not get nigh enough to us to do us any good till they saw that we must all be cut off, or some of them, they ventured to ad-


[1] Asa Pollard of Billerica. See "First Blood at Bunker Hill."

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vance. When our officers perceiv'd that the enemy intended to land, they ordered the Artillery to go out of the fort and prevent it if possible, frost whence the Artillery Capt'n took his pieces and returned home to Cambridge with much haste, for which he is now confin'd, and it is expected must suffer death. The enemy landed fronted before us and form'd themselves in an oblong square in order to surround, which they did in part. After they were well form'd they advanc'd toward us in order to swallow us up, but they found a Choaky mouthful of us, 'tho we could do nothing with our small arms as yet for distance and had but two Cannon and no Gunner, and they from Boston and from the shipping firing and throwing Bombs Keeping us down till they almost surrounded us. But God in Mercy to us fought our battle and tho' we were but few in number and suffer'd to be defeated by our enemy yet we were preserved in a most wonderful manner far beyond our expectation and to our admiration for out of our Regiment there were but 37 killed, 4 or 5 taken captive, about forty-seven wounded & oh may I never forget God's distinguishing mercy to me in sparing my Life when they fell on my right hand and on my left, and close by me, they were, to the eye of reason, no more expos'd than myself. When the arrows of death flew thick round me I was preserved while others were suffer'd to fall a prey to our Cruel enemies. O may that God whose mercy was so far extended in my preservation grant me his grace to devote my future Life to his divine service. Nor do I conclude that the danger is yet over unless God in his mercy either remove our enemy or heal the breach -- but if we should be called again to action, I hope to have courage and strength to act my part valiantly in defence of our Liberties & Country trusting in him who hath hitherto kept me and hath covered my head in the day of battle, and altho' we have lost four out of our Company & several taken captive by the enemy of America, I was not suffer'd to be touch'd.
      I was in the fort when the enemy came in, jumped over

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the wall and ran half a mile when balls flew like hailstones and Cannon roar'd like thunder, but tho' I escap'd then it may be my turn next. After asking your Prayers must conclude wishing you the best of blessings, still remain your Dutiful son

PETER BROWN.

      P. S. I wish very much to come and see you, 'tis in vain to think of that now. I desire you to write to me, direct to Peter Brown Cambridge, to be left at Colo. Prescott's Chambers in the South Colledge[1] and send by way of Providence to Roxbury, from whence it will be likely to come safe; my love to Polly, Sally & Patty, have not leisure to write to them in particular, and Conveyance very uncertain, hope they will excuse me this time.

To-day at Cambridge, to-morrow -- To-morrow the Lord only Knows where.

P. B.[2]

      A bronze tablet recently placed on the westerly side of South College has the following: --

MASSACHUSETTS
HALL
BUILT BY THE PROVINCE, 1720.
OCCUPIED BY
THE AMERICAN ARMY
1775-1776.
USED FOR STUDENTS' ROOMS UNTIL
1870-1871.

[1] Massachusetts Hall.
[2] The above letter from Peter Brown to his mother, now given for the first time in enduring form, confirms a tradition in regard to the first victim of the British guns on June 17, 1775.

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It was my good fortune to meet at her home in Lunenburg Miss Susan Brown, who related the following facts: --
      "Peter Brown was my grandfather. He was born in Newport, R.I., in 1753. He was a son of

[Photo - "South College (Massachusetts Hall)"]

William Brown, and a descendant of Peter Brown, who came in the Mayflower in 1620, and settled in Plymouth, and whose son Peter, a non-conformist, went to Rhode Island with Roger Williams. My grandfather, Peter, removed to Massachusetts,

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and, as the letter shows, was living at or near Concord at the beginning of hostilities. After his service in the Revolution he had a temporary residence at Boylston, Mass., where he married Olive Dinsmore, October 24, 1781. They settled in the part of Lunenburg known as Flat Hill, at a beautiful situation now occupied by their descendants."
      My grandfather was an influential man. He was for several years one of the school committee, a selectman and coroner. He was chosen deacon, but declined on account of age, and distance from the meeting-house. Peter's son William was my father. He lived at the old home, and there I was born. My grandfather followed the trade of a blacksmith in connection with the care of his farm."
      Miss Susan Brown was quite young when her patriot grandfather died; but she has vivid recollections of him as a man small in stature, and busy in making his children and grandchildren happy.
      "I am the only living grandchild of Peter Brown who bears the family name," said Miss Brown, as standing at her door in Lunenburg she pointed out the old homestead, and directed her guest to the delightful locality where the soldier set up his home. She then guided me to the burying-ground near by, where is read on a slate tablet, chiselled out by William, son of Peter, the following:--

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IN MEMORY OF
MR. PETER BROWN,
WHO DIED JULY 15th, 1829,
AE. 76 YEARS.

He was a soldier in the Revolution; was one of those who pursued
the British in their retreat from Concord to Boston. Was in
the Battle on Bunkers Hill. He was an honest
man and a devoted Christian.

THE FIRST BLOOD AT BUNKER HILL.

      I learned the story of the first blood at Bunker Hill from the lips of the venerable officer of the town of Billerica, Mr. Dudley Foster, while sitting with him by his family hearth-stone.
      Mr. Foster said, "I am a descendant from Thomas Foster, who appeared in this country as early as 1659. My grandfather was Joseph Foster, the clerk of the town of Beverly in the early days. My father, Samuel Foster, came to Billerica and settled more than a century ago.
      "It was through the Pollard family, to which my wife belonged, that we have the kinship with Asa Pollard, the first to fall at Bunker Hill."
      Asa Pollard was the fourth son of John Pollard and Mary, daughter of Isaac Stearns, born November 15, 1735, at a farm located in North Billerica. The family first appeared in possession of the land in 1692. Its members were inured to hardship, the devastations of the Indians having set their teeth on edge at an early age. Asa served in the French war, was a scout, and well

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trained in military tactics when the Lexington alarm called him from the old home. It is said that the musket which he took from the pegs above the family hearth-stone on April 19, 1775, carried to Concord and to Bunker Hill, was one that he had received from the Provincial Government as a bounty for a certain number of Indian scalps brought in by him after that questionable means was adopted for exterminating the race. The scarcity of fire-arms at the opening of the Revolution tends to support the family tradition, while the recorded votes of the town give added testimony.
      Asa Pollard and his comrades were more than glad of an opportunity to shoot at Gage's men; for they had vividly in mind the coat of tar and feathers given to one of their neighbors while in Boston a little more than a year before the opening of the war. (See "Beneath Old Roof Trees.") When the town voted "to look up the old bayonets," Asa Pollard looked up his, and all that went with it, and used it like a trained soldier. He and his brother Solomon were at Concord on April 19, and the latter was in command of the minute-men of Billerica at Bunker Hill. The records fail to tell us when the company went to join the forces under General Artemas Ward --possibly they did not all go at one time. Billerica was in the line of march of many of the up-country troops, and companies were seen passing along the

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highway at various times. A company from New Hampshire reached the town at nightfall; and being weary, it was decided to camp in a farmyard until the following morning. This was done; and the combined hospitality and patriotism of the farmer's wife were manifested in a substantial manner. She made haste to prepare for them a genuine New England meal, and in the early morning hot beans and rye bread were brought forth from the great brick oven to the delight of the soldiers. The wooden shovel on which the balls of spungy dough were committed to the heated bricks by the hands of Mrs. Sarah Manning[1] is still in existence, as a reminder of that act of a patriot of the town, who like many another did valiant service beneath her own roof.
      Asa Pollard was of the number of men who went over on the evening of the 16th of June, and labored through the night throwing up earthworks.
      Said Mr. Foster, "My wife's uncle, Edward Pollard, lived in her father's family during her girlhood; and having served four years in the Continental army, he had a large store of anecdotes of those days, with which he used to entertain the young people, who never tired of the


[1] Sarah Heywood of Burlington married William Manning of Billerica in 1769. She died in 1838, aged 91 years. Her husband was commissioned Second Lieutenant in Captain Kidder's company, Seventh Regiment, May 31, 1776.

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veteran's stories, among which was that of Asa's death. It was about noon, and they were taking their lunch brought over from camp on the previous evening. An occasional cannon-ball had been fired over from the war-vessels of the enemy during the morning hours, but they had been easily dodged by the busy workmen. Asa Pollard had seen such missiles before, and made light of the poorly directed shot. But about midday this brave son of Billerica, when seated on the embankment, was struck by a cannon-ball, which severed his head from his body. The bloody scene was within the presence of Colonel Prescott, who was passing down the line at the very moment of the fatal shot. Then came the first confusion of the day. Men left their places in spite of all orders. They were drawn to the spot by the dreadful fate of their comrade. Putnam came running up from the rail fence, and with most positive words attempted to force them back into line. Prescott ordered the body buried immediately, saying, He's the first to fall, and the only one who will be buried to-day.' One of the officers is said to have expressed surprise that the soldier should be buried without a funeral service; but the gallant Prescott saw that the presence of death in that form was not conducive to order, and considered that there was no other way to maintain discipline. The enemy on the vessels had seen the confusion resulting from that one successful shot,

[Photo - "Birthplace of Asa Pollard, Billerica]

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and redoubled their fire. The shot which struck Pollard came from the Somerset, the frigate which afterwards went ashore near Lieutenant's Island, off the Massachusetts coast; and it is claimed that a portion of her hull is yet embedded in the sand of that place."
      The body of Asa Pollard rests with the others in the soil which drank up their youthful blood. It was nearly a century before the people of his native town took any steps to perpetuate his memory; but on the centennial of his death, a tree was planted on the public Common, where it now flourishes to keep the young hero's memory green. Later, the Union School building was dedicated as the Asa Pollard School, and now the local society of the Children of the American Revolution is known as the Asa Pollard Society. The birthplace of the hero has also been suitably marked by the Billerica Historical Society and the Foster brothers, sons of Dudley Foster and Louise Pollard.

[Photo - "Dudley Foster"]

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