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“Hay, hay!” said she to the half-blinded man. “Whoa, stop! Send the doctor to me—it is going to be a desperate case.”

The doctor came to visit his patient, and found her getting a bountiful meal.

“The dragon!” said he. “Hobgoblins and thunder, what did you make me come out here for in all this dreadful storm?”

“Oh, pardon, doctor,” said she, “it was such a good chance to send.”

In ill temper, the country doctor faced the storm again.

There was both an academy and an Indian school in the town, and all the children loved Brother Jonathan.

The children of Boston used to follow Sam Adams in the street in the latter’s benign old age, and the white children and red tumbled over their dogs to meet Brother Jonathan, when he appeared in his three-cornered hat, ruffles and knee-breeches, and all, in the snug village green around which the orioles sung in the great trees.

He had some kind word for them all. When his face lighted up, all was happiness.

Among his neighbors was William Williams, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, and a man of beautiful soul.