The Bay State Monthly, Volume 3, No. 1 | Page 3

stockings on for sleeves,
fulfilled her promise of providing a coat, then laid her babe beneath the
shade of a tree and bound the sheaves.
It is a picture of the trials, hardships and patriotism of the people in the
most trying hour of the revolutionary struggle.
The babe was Thomas Coffin--father of the subject of this sketch,
Charles Carleton Coffin, who was born on the old homestead in
Boscawen, July 26, 1823,--the youngest of nine children, three of
whom died in infancy.
The boyhood of the future journalist, correspondent and author was one
of toil rather than recreation. The maxims of Benjamin Franklin in
regard to idleness, thrift and prosperity were household words.
"He who would thrive must rise at five."
In most farm-houses the fire was kindled on the old stone hearth before
that hour. The cows were to be milked and driven to the pasture to crop
the green grass before the sun dispatched the beaded drops of dew.
They must be brought home at night.
In the planting season, corn and potatoes must be put in the hill. The
youngest boy must ride the horse in furrowing, spread the new-mown
grass, stow away the hay high up under the roof of the barn, gather
stones in heaps after the wheat was reaped, or pick the apples in the
orchard. Each member of the family must commit to memory the
verses of Dr. Watts:
"Then what my hands shall find to do Let me with all my might pursue,
For no device nor work is found Beneath the surface of the ground."
The great end of life was to do something. There was a gospel of work,
thrift and economy continually preached. To be idle was to serve the
devil.

"The devil finds some mischief still for idle hands to do."
Such teaching had its legitimate effect, and the subject of this sketch in
common with the boys and girls of his generation made work a duty.
What was accepted as duty became pleasure.
Aside from the district school he attended Boscawen Academy a few
terms. The teaching could not be called first-class instruction. The
instructors were students just out of college, who taught for the stipend
received rather than with any high ideal of teaching as a profession. A
term at Pembroke Academy in 1843 completed his acquisition of
knowledge, so far as obtained in the schools.
The future journalist was an omnivorous reader. Everything was fish
that came to the dragnet of this New Hampshire boy--from "Sinbad" to
"Milton's Paradise Lost," which was read before he was eleven years
old.
The household to which he belonged had ever a goodly supply of
weekly papers, the New Hampshire Statesman, the Herald of Freedom,
the _New Hampshire Observer_, all published at Concord; the first
political, the second devoted to anti-slavery, the third a religious
weekly. In the westerly part of the town was a circulating library of
some one hundred and fifty volumes, gathered about 1816--the books
were dog-eared, soiled and torn. Among them was the "History of the
Expedition of Lewis and Clark up the Missouri and down the Columbia
to the Pacific Ocean," which was read and re-read by the future
correspondent, till every scene and incident was impressed upon his
memory as distinctly as that of the die upon the coin. Another volume
was a historical novel entitled "A Peep at the Pilgrims," which
awakened a love for historical literature. Books of the Indian Wars,
Stories of the Revolution, were read and re-read with increasing delight.
Even the Federalist, that series of papers elucidating the principles of
Republican government, was read before he was fourteen. There was
no pleasure to be compared with that of visiting Concord, and looking
at the books in the store of Marsh, Capen and Lyon, who kept a
bookstore in that, then, town of four thousand inhabitants--the only one
in central New Hampshire.

Without doubt the love for historical literature was quickened by the
kind patronage of John Farmer, the genial historian, who was a visitor
at the Boscawen farm-house, and who had delightful stories to tell of
the exploits of Robert Rogers and John Stark during the French and
Indian wars.
Soldiers of the Revolution were living in 1830. Eliphalet Kilburn, the
grandfather of Charles Carleton Coffin on the maternal side, was in the
thick of battle at Saratoga and Rhode Island, and there was no greater
pleasure to the old blind pensioner than to narrate the stories of the
Revolution to his listening grandchild. Near neighbors to the Coffin
homestead were Eliakim Walker, Nathaniel Atkinson and David
Flanders, all of whom were at Bunker Hill--Walker in the redoubt
under Prescott; Atkinson and Flanders in Captain Abbott's company,
under Stark, by the rail fence, confronting the Welch fusileers.
The vivid