Windfalls 



brick dwelling, and, as the light of the after- 

 noon sun falls upon it, the letters I. P. stand 

 boldly out, Isaac Pearson. He, too, was a 

 lively Tory that gave the patriots no end of 

 trouble. Those stirring Revolutionary times 

 brought some strange men to the surface, and 

 the journals of the Tories would prove in- 

 stru&ive reading now that the bitterness of 

 the conflict has died out. It is possible to 

 look calmly on the whole affair, now that 

 more than a century has elapsed and To- 

 ries have lost their blackness. But who 

 cares for the under dog in any fight ? is the 

 common exclamation when its claims are 

 set forth. True, nobody does during the 

 heat of conflict ; but, then, who should care 

 for the clamor of a crowd ? Not one man 

 in a thousand is able to calmly think, nor 

 more than one in a million who is fit to gov- 

 ern. The Tories had logic in abundance on 

 their side, but lacked numbers to enforce 

 it. They did not lack in brains. I have 

 Apollo Woodward's autograph before me 

 as I write these words. It is a John Han- 

 cock specimen of chirography, and shows, 

 if handwriting means anything, that he was 

 a leader among men. We are still taught 



