FullReads

Bellman Grey and Blue-Eyed Boy were hurrying up Chestnut street; the man carried a large key, the boy a new broom.

It was a very warm morning in a very warm month of a very warm year; in fact it may as well be stated at once that it was the Fourth day of July, 1776, and that Bellman Grey and Blue-Eyed Boy were in haste to make ready the State House of Pennsylvania for the birth of the United States of America. No wonder they were in a hurry.

In fact, everybody seemed in a hurry that day; for before Bellman Grey had whisked that new broom over the floor of Congress Hall, in walked, arm-in-arm, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Bellman Grey. “You’ll find the dust settled in the committee-room. I’m cleaning house a little extra to-day for the expected visitor.”

“For the coming heir?” said Mr. Adams.

“When Liberty comes, She comes to stay,” said Mr. Jefferson, half-suffocated with the dust; and the two retreated to the committee-room.

Blue-Eyed Boy was polishing with his silken duster the red morocco of a chair as the gentlemen opened the door. He heard one of them say, “If Caesar Rodney gets here, it will be done.”

“If it’s done,” said the boy, “won’t you, please, Mr. Adams, won’t you, please, Mr. Jefferson, let me carry the news to General Washington?”

The two gentlemen looked either at the other, and both at the lad, in smiling wonder.

“If what is done?” asked Mr. Adams.

“If the thing is voted and signed and made sure,” (just here Blue-Eyed Boy waved his duster of a flag and stood himself as erect as a flagpole;) “if the tree’s transplanted, if the ship gets off the ways, if we run clear away from King George, sir; so far away that he’ll never catch us.”

“And why do you, my lad, wish to carry the news to General Washington?” asked Mr. Jefferson.

“Because,” said the boy, “why–wouldn’t you? It’ll be jolly work for the soldiers when they know they can fight for themselves.”

Just here Bellman Grey shouted for Blue-Eyed Boy, bidding him come quick and be spry with his dusting, too.

Before the hall was cleared of the accumulated dust of State-rooms above and Congress-rooms below, in came members of the Congress, one-by-one and two-by-two, and in groups. The doors were locked, and the solemn deliberations began. Within that room, now known as Independence Hall, sat, in solemn conclave, half a hundred men, each and every one of whom knew full well that the deed about to be done would endanger his own life.

On a table lay a paper, awaiting signatures. A silver ink-stand held the ink that trembled and wavered to the sound and stir of John Adams’s voice, as he stated once more the why and the wherefore of the step America was about to take.

This final statement was made for the especial enlightenment of three gentlemen, new members of the Congress from New Jersey, and in reply to the reasons given by Mr. Dickinson why the Declaration of Independence should not be made.

In the meantime Bellman Grey was up in the steeple, “seeing what he could see,” and Blue-Eyed Boy was answering knocks at the entrance doors; then running up the stairs to tell the scraps of news that he had gleaned through open door, or crack, or key-hole.

The day wore on; outside a great and greater crowd surged every moment against the walls; but the walls of the State House were thick, and the crowd was hushed to silence, with intense longing to hear what was going on inside.

From his high-up place in the belfry, where he had been on watch, Bellman Grey espied a figure on horseback, hurrying toward the scene; the horse was white with heat and hurry; the rider’s “face was no bigger than an apple,” but it was a face of importance that day.