suspected some dangerous venture and peremptorily ordered them to hold their tongues and not come to her with any of their mischief.  She was thus able to reply to the officer charged with the inquisition that she knew nothing of the matter, and such was the rigid obligation of the truth in that Puritan community that even the danger of a court-martial would not have induced her to tell a falsehood, however the truth might compromise the family.  The officers, who well knew their sometime hosts, were so well assured of this that the seniors were at once acquitted, and, regarding the girls, they were too gentlemanly to push an inquiry which might have punished a childish freak with the gravest military consequences, for, as the officer on the quest said, “Even it’s being a woman would not protect the author of such a grave insult to the flag.”  Irrepressible as they were, in spite of the danger they had so narrowly escaped, they, not much later, stole the sword of one of the officers when they were all temporarily quartered on the preacher, and, when the island was evacuated by the British forces, brought it out and gave it to the brother, an officer in the American army.

A feat of practical housewifery, which my mother used to tell of, shows another side of the Rhode-Islander, which is not less illustrative of the stock.  One of the boys of the pastor’s family volunteered, or was drawn, in the militia for active service; but, as he had no clothes fit for the camp, the sisters had a black and white sheep brought from the pasture and clipped, and within twenty-four hours had spun, woven, and made up a suit of mixed gray clothes for the brother to go to the war in.  No doubt such things have been done in many another home, even in later times, but this is the home I have to deal with, and in this my mother grew up.  She was the eldest of a family of five, left motherless when she was sixteen.  Her father was the director of the smallpox hospital in Newport, then an institution of grave importance to the community, as the practice of obligatory inoculation prevailed, and all the young people of the colony had to go up in classes to the hospital and pass the ordeal.  Her mother’s death left her the matron of the hospital and caretaker of her sister and brothers, and the stories of her life at that time, which she told me now and then, showed that, with the position, she assumed the effective authority, and ruled her brothers with a severity which my own experience of her maturer years enables me to understand.  “Spare the rod and spoil the child” was the maxim which flamed in the air before every father and mother of that New England, and my mother’s physical vigor at sixty, when her conception of authority began to relax,—­I being then a lad six feet high and indisposed to physical persuasion,—­satisfied me that when her duty had required her to assume the responsibility bequeathed her by her mother, she was fully competent to meet it.