WILLIAM AND MARY, both together. Oh pray begin when he was a child like us.
MRS. M. I cannot tell you a great deal about him at that time. I only know that he was born in Roxbury, in the year 1741. Roxbury is a small town a few miles from Boston. I have no doubt you often ride by the old house in which Joseph (for that was the name of the general) and his three brothers were born. It has now almost fallen to pieces, but it was once a beautiful place, and had a great many fine fruit trees round it. The father of Joseph was quite a rich farmer; he raised the best fruit of any one near Boston. Do you remember seeing last winter an apple with a fine blush on one side, called the Warren russeting?
MRS. M. Joseph's father was the first person who cultivated this apple, and it received its name from him: but alas! it cost him and his family very dear.
MRS. M. I will tell you. One day, in the fall of the year, when almost all the apples were gathered, Mr. Warren, the father of Joseph, while walking round his orchard to see if every thing in it was in good order, as he was looking over the trees he perceived one apple on the top of his favorite tree, the Warren russeting; it looked so beautiful, with the sun gilding its rosy side, that he determined to get it. He was a very active man; so up he climbed until his hand was on the apple, when, just as he had pulled it off, the branch on which he was standing, gave way, he fell to the ground and was instantly killed!
WILLIAM. Oh dear, how long did he lay there, mamma?
MRS. M. Not long; some of his workmen, who were near, heard the noise of the fall, and directly went to see what it was.
His youngest son, whose name was John, was then only four years old: dinner was ready at home, and the mother of little John told him to run into the orchard, and see why his father did not come in to dinner: away he went, and, as he was looking eagerly to see if his father was coming, he saw two men carrying something between them: he ran up to them to see what it was, and, only think of it! it was the body of that dear father whose affectionate embrace he was expecting every moment to meet! Those eyes, which had so often beamed on him with love, were closed in death, and the arms, so often held out to embrace him, hung motionless at his side!