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“Do, do,” said the children, all five; and the mother, lovely Faith Trumbull, said, “Yes, Jonathan, do.”

“And now,” said the Governor, “let us read together the most beautiful chapter, as I mind, in all the Epistles.”

The snow fell gently without; the fire cracked, and they read together the chapter containing “Charity suffereth long, and is kind.”

“Beareth all things, endureth all things,” read little John. Then tears filled his eyes, and he said:

“Father, I love you.”

But there was another side to the love and loyalty of this sheltered town in the cedars. There were Tories here, and they did not like the patriarchal Governor. You must meet some of them, if it does change the atmosphere of the narrative.

It has been said that no dispute could ever stand before Brother Jonathan; it would melt away like snow on an April day when he lifted his benignant eyes and put the finger of one hand on the other, and said, “Let me make it clear to you.”

Queer old Samuel Peters, the Episcopal agent, or missionary in the colony, made so much fun of the good people in his History of Connecticut, and so led England and America to laugh by his marvelous anecdotes and description of the blue-laws, that the really thrifty and heroic character of these people has been misjudged.