“Well, you see,” said grandfather placidly, “I wasn't killed; but I come pretty nigh it. You see, they sent into Boston for re-enforcements; and, by the time we got to Lexington, Earl Percy was marching out with fresh troops and cannon. Con and I were standing on the meetin'-house steps, when there come a terrible bang, and something struck right over our heads, and went into the meetin'-house. 'Why, Bill!' says Con, 'what's that?'--'They've got cannon: that's what that is,' says I. 'Let's run 'round the other side.' So we did; but just as we got round there, there come another bang, and a ball crashed right through the meetin'-house, and come out of the pulpit window. Well, we saw there was no staying there: so we run then, and got into a little clump of trees behind a stone wall; and there we saw 'em go by,--Earl Percy on his horse, and all his troops, ever so grand. He went on up to Concord. Fact is, if it hadn't been for him and his men, those regulars would all have been cut off: they wouldn't one of 'em have got back, for the whole country was up and fighting. The militia came pouring in from Weston and Acton and Billriky,--all the towns round. Then their Col. Smith was wounded, and a good many others, and lots of 'em killed, and our minute-men coming on 'em before and behind, and all around. But ye see, we couldn't stand regular troops and cannon; and so, when they come on, we had to give back. Earl Percy came up, and formed a hollow square, and they marched into it, and so gave 'em time to rest.” “Wal, there was need enough on't,” said Sam. “The regulars had been hectored and picked, and driv 'round so from piller to post, that they was dog tired. Jimmy Irwin, he was a little chap then; but he telled me how he see the men jest threw 'emselves down on the ground, their tongues trailing out o' their mouths like hunting-dogs. You see, they had about two hundred wounded, and twenty eight or nine was taken prisoners, and sixty-four killed outright: so Lord Percy had his hands full o' takin' care o' the mess they'd got up.” “Yes,” said my grandfather, “there were dead men lying all around the road as we came back. There, boys!” he said, pointing to a gun and powder-horn over the chimney, “we picked up these when we were coming home. We found them on a poor fellow who lay there dead in the road: there's some blood of his on it to this day. We couldn't help feeling it was most too bad too.” “Poor fellow! he wa'n't to blame,” said my grand-mother. “Soldiers have to go as they're bid. War's an awful thing.” “Then they shouldn't have begun it,” interposed Aunt Lois. “'They that take the sword shall perish by the sword.'” “Well, grandpapa,” said I, “what were the stores they went up to get?”