s, and uncles, and cousins galore, whose names are on the slate stones across the street, were to troop in here tonight, we could meet with them on common ground in speaking of a clock, or a watch, or of time itself?
There is no question that Gov. Brooks would marshal this troop, for like the MacGregor, Where he sat, there was the head of the table.
As a boy he knew this clock, for its owner, John Albree, of Medford, was his grandfather, and in after years he must have seen it in the home of his cousin, Mrs. Jonathan Brooks.
Did the men of that day recognize, as we do, that time is money?
Could John Albree, the weaver on Meeting House Brook, figure out the money value of an extra throw of his shuttle, or comprehend the condition of society which sanctions a law punishing the weavers of our day if they allow their operatives to begin work ten minutes ahead of the opening time?
How he and his neighbors would have resented any interference in their dealings with their servants.