drink his tea and kill his sheep as profusely as he pleased.'   They saw the blackened rock, where the tea was fired by that dead, earnest old Whig, whom they always looked upon with veneration; they saw that other gathering of staunch yeomanry early in 1775, armed not with glistening bayonets, but scythes, forks, anything they could get, and who were deadly in earnest, and 'would fight to the death every mother's son of them,' march down from Col. Anthony Thomas' to this site, where they saw the going of Gen. Balfour and his troops, to embark upon vessels lying off Brant Rock.
   "That 'staunch yeomanry' doubtless saved the soil of Marshfield from being reddened with the blood of the second revolution.   They witnessed Capt. Thomas go to the top of Ward or 'Pudding' Hill and fire the three signal alarm guns, while young Charles Thomas beat the drum to let the surrounding inhabitants know that hostilities had commenced the morning after the battle of Lexington.   They heard the creak of the oxcart at midnight which removed the town's powder from yonder bedroom and the women and children to places of greater safety, when armed British vessels lay in the bay.  .  .  .  But in such barren schoolhouses were trained the men who carried through the Revolutionary period, a miracle second only to the multitude being fed in the wilderness; they held with a firm and bloody grasp the rights of freeman to transmit to 'posteritie.' "
   In an address at the same reunion, delivered by the late Rev. Ebenezer Alden, he adds some historical facts concerning the South school, which I will quote.   "The old South school, its duration is covered by a period of 134 years, extending from 1722 to 1856.   March 4, 1822, the town voted to sanction a division of the old South school district, establish a line, remove the old schoolhouse and build a new one.  .  .  .  April 2, 1810, the town was