to alarm the country, but at ten o’clock on the memorable night of the 18th he was sent for and bidden to get ready.  He got his riding-boots and surtout from his house in North Square, was ferried across the river, landing on the Charlestown side about eleven o’clock, where he was told the signal-lights had already been displayed in the belfry.  The moon was rising as he put spurs to his horse and started for Lexington.

The troops were ahead of him by an hour.

He rode up what is now Main Street as far as the “Neck,” then took the old Cambridge road for Somerville.

To escape two British officers who barred his way, he dashed across lots to the main road again and took what is now Broadway.  On he went over the hill to Medford, where he aroused the Medford minute-men.  Then through West Medford and over the Mystic Bridge to Menotomy,—­now Arlington,—­where he struck the highway,—­now Massachusetts Avenue,—­to Lexington.  Galloping up to the old Clarke house where Hancock and Adams were sleeping, the patriot on guard cautioned him not to make so much noise.

“Noise! you’ll have enough of it here before long.  The Regulars are coming.”

Awakened by the voice, Hancock put his head out of the window and said,—­

“Come in, Revere; we’re not afraid of you.”

Soon the old house was alight.  Revere entered the “living room” by the side door and delivered his message to the startled occupants.  Soon they were joined by Dawes, another messenger by another road.  After refreshing themselves, Revere and Dawes set off for Concord.  On the road Samuel Prescott joined them.  When about half-way, four British officers, mounted and fully armed, stopped them.  Prescott jumped over the low stone wall, made his escape and alarmed Concord.  Dawes was chased by two of the officers until, with rare shrewdness, he dashed up in front of a deserted farm-house and shouted, “Hello, boys!  I’ve got two of them,” frightening off his pursuers.

Revere was captured.  Without fear or humiliation he told his name and his mission.  Frightened by the sound of firing at Lexington, the officers released their prisoner, and he made his way back to Hancock and Adams and accompanied them to what is now the town of Burlington.  Hastening back to Lexington for a trunk containing valuable papers, he was present at the battle,—­the fulfillment of his warning, the red afterglow of the lights from the belfry of Old North Church.

He lived for forty-odd years to tell the story of his midnight ride, and now he sleeps with Hancock and Adams, the parents of Franklin, Peter Faneuil, and a host of worthy men in the “Granary.”

The good people of Massachusetts have done what they could to commemorate the events and obliterate the localities of those great days; they have erected monuments and put up tablets in great numbers; but while marking the spots where events occurred, they have changed the old names of roads and places until contemporary accounts require a glossary for interpretation.