Free The Transcendental Murder by Jane Langton Page A

Governor resolved to suggest to the Mayor that next year he include a few appropriate lines from some traditional verse. Then he shook hands with Charley, calling him Paul Revere, and congratulated him on the successful completion of his famous ride. Suddenly he remembered some of the lines he had forgotten, and hanging onto Charley’s hand, he pumped it up and down and declaimed them into the microphone.

    Through all our history, to the last,
    In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
    The people will waken and listen to hear
    The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
    And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

    He sat down smugly, feeling that he had positively outdone himself. The military units stared stonily ahead, there was a flutter of polite clapping, and one loyal Prescott supporter said Boo. “Not Revere, you ass,” hissed the Governor’s wife. “That’s not Paul Revere.”
    The Governor was thoroughly disgruntled. “Well, for Chris’sake, who in hell is it?” Then he nearly jumped out of his skin. KABOOM. The Concord Independent Battery was firing again. B-B-B-BOOM went the echoes running around. Babies set up a howl all over the field, and small galvanized hands let go of gas balloons. The Concord Band started to play “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the Governor and his wife left to open a supermarket in Needham, and everyone began trying to find lost members of his family. A few well-disciplined men and women veterans stood and saluted, or just stood at attention. Mary didn’t, but she felt vaguely guilty, walking to the car with Mrs. Hand. April 19th always curiously stirred her. She wanted to fire a musket or pitch a box of tea in the harbor or somehow shout her defiance of colonial power. Down with the King anyhow.

Chapter 14
Dying is a wild Night and a new Road.
EMILY DICKINSON
    Preliminary report of the Committee on Public Ceremonies and Celebrations …

19 April, 8:30 A.M .
Acton Boy Scouts’ Flag raising ceremonies at Isaac Davis farmhouse preceding hike down the original trail to the North Bridge.
10:30 A.M .
On appropriate bugle signal the group will march down to and across the bridge to the tune of “The White Cockade.”

    Honor scout Arthur (Tubby) Furry puffed along the Isaac Davis trail in deep distress of mind. It was terrible, it was really terrible. Angry tears overflowed his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He brushed his sleeve, stiff with merit badges, across his runny nose. If nobody could see you it was okay to cry. He half-trotted, sobbing and puffing. He’d never catch up now. The ceremony would be all over, and the presentations. He looked at his watch, and sniffled in despair. Twelve forty-five! He was over two hours late! What would Mr. Palmer say? How could he possibly explain to Mr. Palmer? He couldn’t say he was just a natural-born heavy sleeper and had slept right through his alarm, and then his darned old mother had made him clean up his stupid room, could he? Just because he’d more or less forgotten to clean it up yesterday, for crumb’s sake. Here it was, the most important day in his life, and his mother had made him clean up his room. It was his duty to be there with the others. He’d tried to explain to his mother, but she wouldn’t listen. Here he was, Arthur Furry, the one who had the honor to present the flag to the Governor of Massachusetts, the Governor , for crumb’s sake. And then his mother had said something awful. I don’t care if it’s Almighty God, she had said, you’re going to clean up this ghastly mess right now, from top to bottom. That wasn’t even a nice thing to say, for crumb’s sake. Most of the time his mother was nice, but sometimes she could be awful, like now.
    The muster field was empty. He had just known it would be. Arthur struggled across it, climbed over the stone wall on one side of Liberty Street and then over the stone wall on the