BOSTON TO ALBANY. 83 



fellow-creatures, bringing power, union, glory to the 

 nation, has burned itself into the very heart of the 

 Old Bay State; and lest posterity miglit f)rget the 

 lessons she learned from 1861 to 1865, everywhere 

 she has planted her war monuments, to remind her 

 children that 



" Simple duty has no place for fear.'* 



In the shade of Worcester Common is another 

 object of interest. A little plot of ground, wherein 

 stands a grand old tomb. It is the resting-place of 

 Timothy Bigelow, the early patriot of Worcester. 

 Here in the sunshine and the twilight, in the bloom 

 of summer, and under the soft falling snows of winter, 

 he perpetually manifests to the world 



" How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 

 By all their country's wishes blest." 



A sturdy old New Englander was Colonel Bigelow. 

 " When the news of the destruction of the tea in 

 Boston Harbor reached him, he was at work in his 

 blacksmith shop, near the spot now called Lincoln 

 Square. He immediately laid aside his tools, pro- 

 ceeded directly to his house, opened the closet, and 

 took from it a canister of tea, went to the fire-place, and 

 poured the contents into the flames. As if feeling 

 tiiat everything which had come in 'contact with 

 British legislative tyranny should be purified by fire, 

 the canister followed the tea; and then he covered 

 both with coals. 



^* Before noon on the nineteenth of April, 1775, an 

 express came to town, shouting, as he passed through 

 the street at full speed, * To arms ! to arms ! — the war's 



