HOW ETHAN CARLYLE BROUGHT THE NEWS OF BURGOYNE’S SURRENDER “Who is that man that is so much at the Wheelocks’ just now?” asked young Walter Stanton of his friend Philip Morgan. “Some Tory friend, I suppose. I don’t like him; see the sneer upon his face as he looks at the members upon the steps of the State House.” It was about noon on a day late in September in the year 1777. A group of young men and boys were lounging upon some benches in the shade of two big buttonwoods directly across from the quaint old State House at Philadelphia. The sun hung almost over the tower whose bell had boomed freedom to a nation only a little more than a year before; upon the stone steps of the building stood a number of grave-faced, earnest gentlemen, members of the first Continental Congress, talking of the weighty matters that were to be discussed in the approaching session. The man who had attracted Walter Stanton’s attention was a person of striking appearance. He had thick, coal-black hair, a pale, keen face and a frame that showed strength and endurance. A boy of about nineteen stood at his side, and they were both talking in low tones and watching the patriot-legislators as they slowly assembled. Philip Morgan was right when he said that the stranger wore a sneer upon his face. That cold look of pitying contempt and the curl of the man’s lip could mean nothing else. A stir went through the crowd of lads as an erect, care-worn man passed slowly along, with bent head and an air of great abstraction, every hat came off with a sweep of respect. “Who is that man?” asked the stranger of Walter. “That,” answered the boy, “is Mr. Hancock, president of Congress.” The stranger’s teeth gleamed in a mocking smile. “Ah, yes, I have heard of him,” he said. “It was he that caused this war with England.” Walter and Philip looked at each other; the boy at the man’s side nudged him in a manner that said as plainly as words: “Be careful of what you say.” “It’s news to me,” spoke Walter Stanton, “to hear that Mr. John Hancock was the cause of the war.” “We had always fancied that it was begun by that old madman, King George,” said Philip Morgan, who was a blunt spoken lad at best; and the man’s manner irritated him. The stranger bent his brows and a glint of anger came into his sharp, black eyes. He seemed upon the point of making a biting retort; but once more the boy at his side warned him to beware. “Be careful, Danvers,” he whispered. “You’ll get into trouble. They are all Whigs here.” Danvers hesitated a moment; then he turned to Philip with a cold smile that showed his strong white teeth. “If it had not been for Major Pitcairn’s being called out that day with his men to seize this Mr. Hancock for treason to the crown, there would have been no fight at Lexington; and had that skirmish not taken place there would have been no rebellion.” “Revolution is a better word, I think,” said Walter Stanton, quietly.