their flintlocks were within reach, for rumors were rife that action was at hand.
Thus Medford waited for the day that was to follow.
In the late evening of April eighteenth the waning moon cast a phantasy of light and shadow over the sleeping town.
Down from the hills to the north, almost to the river bottom, spread the dark forest, the Charlestown wood lots of earlier years, with Pine hill rising in their midst.
Along the Mystic ran the way to the Weirs.
From the cross roads near Cradock's bridge ran the road to Charlestown, and from the same point, later the market place, led the road to Salem.
Between the two lay the river road.
From the road to the Weirs, at some distance from Mystic pond, ran the road around the woods.
Opposite Rock hill the Woburn road branched off to the towns on the north, reached also by the Stoneham road, leading from the Salem highway, up past the great brickyards, where it was lost in the darkness of the wood lots, disturbed only by the lonely
stablished here a company of men who were in the employ of one Matthew Cradock, a wealthy London merchant.
They had erected some log house vessel for their fishing.
Their work was a business adventure of Cradock's, of which he had several, beside the corporate affairs of the Mas as yet and tell of a park impaled in which cattle were kept till Cradock could stock it with deer.
Such facts are the meagre informationyhew, Davison and lastly Edward Collins, and who, some years after Cradock's death, purchased the whole farm of the heirs.
Now, as I have mon Mystic.
I trust you have also seen that those early comers of Cradock's venture antedated the Puritan settlers of Charlestown and Bostons two—years.
I know our town seal said Medford— Condita—1630, but Cradock's men came in 1629 or 1628.
But with the coming of Governor Winmber 23, 1630, we read that one Austin Bratcher, dying lately at Mr. Cradock's plantation, a jury found that the strokes given by Walter Palm<