The Old Coast Road | Page 9

He had no adequate cannon or siege guns, and
the story of how Henry Knox--afterward General Knox--obtained these
from Ticonderoga and brought them on, in the face of terrific
difficulties of weather and terrain, is one that for bravery and brains
will never fail to thrill. On the night of March 4, the Americans,
keeping up a cannonading to throw the British off guard, and to cover
up the sound of the moving, managed to get two thousand Continental
troops and four hundred carts of fascines and intrenching tools up on
the hill. That same night, with the aid of the moonlight, they threw up
two redoubts--performing a task, which, as Lord Howe exclaimed in
dismay the following morning, was "more in one night than my whole
army could have done in a month."
The occupation of the heights was a magnificent coup. The moment the
British saw what had been done, they realized that they had lost the
fight. However, Lord Percy hurried to make an attack, but the weather
made it impossible, and by the time the weather cleared the Americans
were so strongly intrenched that it was futile to attack. Washington,
although having been granted permission by Congress to attack Boston,
wished to save the loyal city if possible. Therefore, he and Howe made
an agreement by which Howe was to evacuate and Washington was to
refrain from using his guns. After almost two weeks of preparation for
departure, on March 17 the British fleet, as the gilded letters on the
white marble panel tell us, in the words of Charles W. Eliot:
Carrying 11,000 effective men And 1000 refugees Dropped down to
Nantasket Roads And thenceforth Boston was free A strong British
force Had been expelled From one of the United American colonies
The white marble panel, with its gold letters and the other inscriptions
on the hill, tell the whole story to whoever cares to read, only omitting
to mention that the thousand self-condemned Boston refugees who
sailed away with the British fleet were bound for Halifax, and that that
was the beginning of the opprobrious term: "Go to Halifax."

That the battle was won without bloodshed in no way minimizes the
verdict of history that "no single event had a greater general effect on
the course of the war than the expulsion of the British from the New
England capital." And surely this same verdict justifies the perpetual
distinction of this unique and beautiful hill.
This, then, is the story of Dorchester Heights--a story whose glory will
wax rather than wane in the years, and centuries, to come. Let us be
glad that out of the reek of the modern city congestion this green hill
has been preserved and this white marble monument erected. Perhaps
you see it now with different, more sympathetic eyes than when you
first looked out from the balcony platform. Before us lies the water
with its multifarious islands, bays, promontories, and coves, some of
which we shall now explore. Behind us lies the city which we shall
now leave. The Old Coast Road--the oldest in New England--winds
from Boston to Plymouth, along yonder southern horizon. More history
than one person can pleasantly relate, or one can comfortably listen to,
lies packed along this ancient turnpike: incidents closer set than the
tombs along the Appian Way. We will not try to hear them all. Neither
will we follow the original road too closely, for we seek the beautiful
pleasure drive of to-day more than the historic highway of long ago.
Boston was made the capital of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1632.
Plymouth was a capital a decade before. It is to Plymouth that we now
set out.
[Illustration]
Chapter II
MILTON AND THE BLUE HILLS
[Illustration]
Milton--a town of dignity and distinction! A town of enterprise and
character! Ever since the first water-power mill in this country; the first
powder mill in this country; the first chocolate mill in this country, and
thus through a whole line of "first" things--the first violoncello, the first

pianoforte, the first artificial spring leg, and the first railroad to see the
light of day saw it in this grand old town--the name of Milton has been
synonymous with initiative and men and women of character.
Few people to-day think of Milton in terms of industrial repute, but,
rather, as a place of estates, too aristocratic to be fashionable, of
historic houses, and of charming walks and drives and views. Many of
the old families who have given the town its prestige still live in their
ancestral manors, and many of the families who have moved there in
recent years are of such sort as will heighten the fame of the famous
town. As the stranger passes through Milton he is captivated by
glimpses of ancient