This text is part of:
[23]
Kneeland, who, being suspected as a Tory, had his house protected by red-coated sentries, for whom his little daughter imbibed such reverence that long after the British evacuation she never passed a deserted and battered sentrybox without dropping a courtesy in salutation.
In short, the British lion was to Cambridge boys of that day but a dethroned deity, who might again be restored should such boys relax for a moment their defiance to tyrants.
Then there was “the constant service of the antique world” in the direction of costume.
Mr. Sales, the Franco-Spanish teacher, who lived till 1854, had cue and hair powder; Dr. Popkin, who died in 1852, wore the last of the cocked hats, which, with his umbrella, is carefully preserved in the Cambridge Public Library.
This implement was one of the three eminent umbrellas which dignified the university town; vast and heavy structures, equally hard to spread or furl; the second belonged to William Jennison, tax-collector, and the other to Professor Hedge, this being commemorated in Holmes's letters as held by the hands of his son Dunham, “An ”
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.