The Yankee Champion — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

er Re t Pi ¥ a $ Fi ~*~, 7 > ae ea od . a 7 < * ae ~~ 4 ae PT mt \. >," Ave ’ a *e — ma "| * % a. ~'J ee Re “7 ‘ ae ; . - A e all sat ON » hae eee ne ee Ege -™ oe , : THE YANKEE CHAMPION. CHAPTER I. THE DYING PATRIOT AND HIS SON, It was about nine o’clock in the morning of the 19th of April, 1775. Not far from the old North Bridge, in Concord, Mass., stood an humble dwell- ing, the home of one of the noblest hearted of our provincial fathers. In the small front rocm that looked out upon the road stood a wide bed, and upon it lay the wasted form of an old man, whose snowy hair and wrinkled brow betokened that more years than are generally allotted to man had made him old. His eye was as bright as the eagle’s, and as he lay there now, upon the verge of the grave, those orbs, through which shine the life-beams of the soul, were gleaming and sparkling with an un- wonted fire, and the thin, pale lips were tightly compressed, as though the heart had feelings he dared not utter. By the side of the bed, and holding the old: man by the wrist, sat a middle-aged man, upon whose countenance reposed that look of professional grav- ity that at once betokens the ‘‘doctor.”’ At the foot of the bed stood a young man who had ml GoOMIEhbOoOKs. co