THE+RIDE+OF+PAUL+REVERE

​dick​ ​ THE MIDNIGHT RIDE OF PAUL REVERE​ ​ media type="custom" key="5116209" align="right" THE INTRODUCTORY PARAGRAPH​ ​


 * ON THIS PAGE I INTEND TO TEACH YOU ALL ABOUT THE MIDNIGHT RIDE OF PAUL REVERE​.WHILE SHOWING YOU A GREAT DISPLAY AND PROFILE. I WILL ALSO TELL YOU ABOUT HOW PAUL REVERE,WILLIAM DAWES,AND DR SAMUEL PRESCOTT,EMBARKED ON THEIR SECRET MISSION AND HOW THEY DID.DID THEY FAIL,DID THEY SUCCEED.WELL ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED ON THIS PAGE.
 * [[image:m333_meeee_m3333.jpg width="216" height="238" align="right" caption="PAGE BY DANYELL AUSTIN"]]

media type="custom" key="5036655" width="167" height="196"


 * IN 1774 AND THE SPRING OF 1775 PAUL REVERE WAS EMPLOYED BY THE BOSTON COMMITTEE OF CORRESPONDENTS AND THE MASSACHUSETTS COMMITTEE OF SAFTEY.
 * HE WAS AN EXPRESS RIDER TO CARY NEWS ,MESSAGES AND COPIES OF RESOLUTION AS FAR AWAY AS NEW YORK AND PHILIDEPHIA.
 * [[image:map_midnight.gif width="241" height="426" align="right"]]ON APRIL 18 ,1775 PAUL WAS SENT DR JOSEPH WARREN TO INFORM SAMUEL ADAMS AND JOHN HANCOCK THAT THE RED COATS WHERE COMING TO ARREST THEM
 * AFTER BEING ROWED ACCROSS THE CHARELSTON RIVER BY A COUPLE OF ASSOCIATES REVERE BOROWED A HORSE FROM HIS FRIEND DEACON JOHN LURKIN
 * HE RODE ON THE WAY TO LEXINGTON AND ALARMED THE COUNTRY SIDE STOPPING AT EVERY HOUSE AND SCREAMING "THE RED COATS ARE COMMING" "THE RED COATS ARE COMING' UNTILL REACHING LEXINGTON AROUND MIDNIGHT.
 * HE REACHED THE HOUSE WHERE SAMUEL ADAMS AND JOHN HANCCOCK WHERE AND INFORMED THEM WHAT WAS PLANNING TO HAPPEN.
 * AFTER DELIVERING THE MESSAGE HE WAS JOINED BY WILLIAM DAWES WHO WAS ALSO A RIDER WHO HAD BEEN SENT ON THE SAME MISSION JUST BY A DIFFERENT ROUTE.
 * THEY DECIDED TO CONTINUE THEIR JOURNEY TO CONCORD MASSUCHUSETTS WHERE THE WEAPONS AND SUPPLIES WHERE BEING HIDDEN ,THEY WHERE LATER JOIND BY ANOTHER RIDER BY THE NAME OF DR.SAMUEL PRESSCOTT,THE WENT ON TO WARN THE PEOPLE OF CONCORD TO HIDE THE WEAPONS.
 * SOON AFTER THE WERE ALL ARESSTED BY A BRITISH PATROL. SOON AFTER THAT PRESSCOT AND DAWES ESCAPED.
 * REVERE WAS HELD FOR SOMETIME AFTER THAT THEN RELEASED.
 * WHEN RELEASED HE DID NOT HAVE A HORSE .BUT RETURNED BACK TO LEXINGTON IN TIME TO SEE PART OF THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON GREEN
 * DR.SAMUEL PRESSCOTT REACHED CONCORD EVENTUALLY AND WARNED THE PEOPLE OF CONCORD TO HIDE THE WEAPONS AND SUPPLIES,BECAUSE THE BRITISH WERE COMING TO TAKE THEM
 * REVERE WAS A BIG HELP IN THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR ,AND INSPIRED LONGFELLOWS POEM.EVEN THOUGH THE POEM IS NOT ACCURATE BECAUSE IT DOES NOT MENTION DR.SAMUEL PRESSCOTT ,AND WILLIAM DAWES ,BUT IT GIVES YOU A GOOD IDEA OF WHAT THE PURPOSE OF THE RIDE.

LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower, as a signal light, -- One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country-folk to be up and to arm." Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison-bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnifiedmedia type="youtube" key="Hp0gdaXhOsg" height="650" width="465" align="right" By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street Wanders and watches with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry-chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the somber rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade, -- By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay, -- A line of black, that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, Now gazed on the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and somber and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns! A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. It was twelve by the village clock, When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall,n ​ Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British regulars fired and fled, -- How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, -- A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed, And the midnight-message of Paul Revere. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1860

​