A decided feeling of impending war was now sharpened and well defined, and all were waiting for the actual clash of arms. Late in February, His Majesty's ship "Lively," mounting twenty guns, arrived in the harbor and came to anchor off the fort; and her officers proceeded to make themselves fully as obnoxious as had the hated soldiers. They diligently searched all incoming vessels that could by any pretext be suspected; and where they found anything in the nature of military stores, these were confiscated. One vessel, carrying a chest of arms destined for the town, was, although anchored close to the "Lively," boarded one night by a party of intrepid young men under the lead of one Samuel R. Trevett, who succeeded in removing the arms, which they concealed on shore. Later on in the month a body of troops landed one Sunday morning on Homans' Beach; and after loading their guns, the soldiers took up their march through the town. The alarm drums were beaten at the door of every church to warn the worshippers, and it was not long before the hitherto quiet streets were thronged with an excited crowd of indignant citizens, gathered in active defence of their rights. They suspected the object of the enemy to be the seizure of several pieces of artillery secreted at Salem. But in this--or whatever was their purpose--they were baffled, meeting with such determined opposition as to be forced to march back to the shore and re-embark, with no more disastrous result to either side than the usual number of bloody faces and bruised fists, such as had distinguished the sojourn of the regulars upon the Neck. Aside from these two events, the days in the old town passed much as before, despite the ever-increasing certainty of war,--this leading the townsfolk to go armed night and day, and to keep close watch from the outlooks for any sudden descent the enemy might seek to make. The last vestige of snow was gone from the shaded nooks amid the trees on the hills,--the land, swept dry and clear of all signs of winter, was waiting for the sun to warm the brown earth into life; and in the hollows of the woods, the tender shoots of the first wild flowers were already showing, where the winds had brushed away the fallen leaves of the year before. It was the twenty-first of April, and the expected battle had come at last, for Lexington was two days old. The news was brought into town before the morning of the twentieth, and had resulted in the sudden departure of many of the younger men for the immediate scene of action. Among these was John Devereux; and Mary was to accompany her husband to the town, in order that she might be with him until the very last moment. The parting between father and son was full of solemnity, for each felt it to be the last time they would meet on earth.