by jeff brown
Stanley frowned. If anyone is an expert on flatness, Stanley thought, it is me!
It was time to talk to Dr. Dan.
“Dr. Deb sounds really smart, but . . . ,” he began.
He searched for the words to explain everything else. He just wanted to have fun on his trip! He didn’t want people looking at him or trying to cure him. He was happy just the way he was!
But before he could get the words out of his mouth, his father changed the subject.
“Have you seen the rest of this place?” he asked Dr. Dan. “It’s amazing! Did you know . . .”
Mr. Lambchop was really excited about the history in and around Quincy Market, and he recited some fun facts to Dr. Dan and the rest of the family. His enthusiasm swept everything else away. In no time, he was clearing the table and leading the rest of them away to see the sights. Stanley didn’t have a chance to speak up!
It turned out that Quincy Market was part of a bigger market called Faneuil Hall. “Long ago, this was where colonists could buy and sell things they needed. Almost like a grocery store,” Mr. Lambchop said. “It was also a place where the people of Boston gathered to complain about the king.”
Even Arthur was amazed. He squinted at an ice cream stand. “Right here?” he said. “That’s unbelievable!”
“Well, not exactly here,” said Mr. Lambchop. “In a different building nearby. Follow me!”
Mr. Lambchop led them out of Quincy Market and into a wide-open space that was also full of people. These people weren’t eating, though. They were watching a juggler!
He juggled five beanbags. Then he juggled five basketballs. Then he juggled upside down! Stanley could have watched him all day. And there were other street performers, too. Stanley counted as one acrobat did thirty flips in a row. It was like a circus out here! He had a feeling that this place looked different in colonial times.
Dr. Dan was chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop. Just one more minute, Stanley thought. Then I will be brave enough to try again and tell Dr. Dan how I feel.
When Stanley looked away from the juggler, he saw a row of pushcarts selling everything from hats and sunglasses to dog treats! It was still a marketplace, but these days it sold different things.
Arthur tapped his shoulder. “Look what I bought!” he said, holding up a pair of red socks! “You know, like the Red Sox?” Arthur said.
“Wicked cool!” said Stanley. Beacon Jill had told him that was a real compliment in Boston.
Mr. Lambchop pointed at a brick building. “That’s the original Faneuil Hall,” he told the boys. “Sometimes people call it the ‘Cradle of Liberty.’”
“The place where liberty was a baby?” asked Arthur.
Mr. Lambchop smiled. “The place where the people of Boston started talking about breaking away from England,” he explained. “Many gave speeches at Faneuil Hall. Later, those people wrote and signed the Declaration of Independence. Something big started right here!”
Faneuil Hall looked a little like a school to Stanley. It was three stories tall, and it had a dome peeking up from the top, almost like a chimney. It looked different from all the other buildings around it. Older, and more serious. I bet that’s just how it looked in colonial times, Stanley thought.
“I think we should go in!” said Mrs. Lambchop. “Then we can follow the Freedom Trail from here and see Boston’s other historic sites.”
“I’m afraid I need to say good-bye for now,” said Dr. Dan. “I have some meetings to get to. But I will see you tomorrow! Stanley, I can’t wait to hear your speech. It will be a highlight of the conference!”
“Oh, um, sure, see you tomorrow,” he said uncomfortably, looking at the ground. Stanley had missed his chance.
Dr. Dan waved good-bye until he disappeared into the crowd. It felt like a hundred butterflies had just landed in Stanley’s stomach. Somehow he’d made his big mistake even bigger!
There was nothing left to do except follow his family through Faneuil Hall. It looked like an old-fashioned auditorium, with rows of wooden chairs facing forward. There were balconies with more chairs along the side. There was room for a lot of colonists in here, Stanley thought.
Mrs. Lambchop was holding a brochure. “The grasshopper weather vane on top of this building’s cupola is a well-known symbol of the city,” she read.
A weather vane was a tool that showed the direction of the wind. Stanley had seen one at the airport. But what in the world was a cupola? Could it be a fancy word for the dome he saw outside? Mrs. Lambchop loved fancy words. Stanley listened, even though he didn’t understand much. He didn’t want to think about anything else.
Then he heard a voice next to him. “Is that Flat Stanley?”
It reminded Stanley of something important.
Being flat—and being famous—was a part of who he was. And nobody, not even the doctors, was going change that. Because Stanley wouldn’t let them!
Strangers from the Past
When he turned to see who was speaking, Stanley was surprised. They looked like people from another time!
A man was wearing a long gray coat over a pair of short pants. A fancy white collar peeked out of the top of the coat. His shoes were heavy and black, and his hat had three corners. It reminded Stanley of what a pirate might wear.
Next to this man stood a woman in a blue dress that reached all the way to the floor. Her soft white hat was tied under her chin, like a baby’s hat. Stanley had never seen a grown-up wearing a bonnet!
“Good afternoon, sir,” said the man to Stanley, holding out his hand. “I am Mr. Simon Bradford. And surely you must be Stanley Lambchop.”
“How do you know who I am? Aren’t you from colonial times?” Stanley wasn’t sure if he should shake hands. What if a handshake whisked him back in time, too?
The woman in the bonnet smiled. “Have no fear,” she said. “I am Hannah Noble, daughter of a patriot.” She lowered her voice to add something. “I am also a local guide.”
Oh! Stanley thought. A tour guide, like Beacon Jill! She and the man were only pretending to be people from another time. The bonnet was a costume!
“Nice to meet you,” said Stanley politely.
Mr. Simon Bradford smiled. “What brings a fine flat fellow like you to Boston?” he asked.
“We’re on a family trip,” said Stanley.
“Would you care to join us on a walk through history?” asked Hannah. “We will show you early Boston from a colonist’s point of view.”
“You will see the sights, hear the sounds, meet the people, and taste the tastes of Boston in the 1700s,” said Mr. Bradford. “Just as they really were.”
Arthur had stopped taking pictures. He was watching the guides curiously.
Stanley didn’t think his brother would want to join another tour. But Arthur surprised him. “Taste the tastes?” he asked.
Hannah Noble turned to him. “Many people don’t know that colonists in Boston were fond of chocolate!”
“That is all I need to hear,” Arthur said. Next thing Stanley knew, his brother was practically begging to go on the tour! And of course Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop were thrilled. These guides would take them to the next stop on the Freedom Trail: the home of Paul Revere.
“Isn’t this perfect?” Mr. Lambchop said. “We’ll get an authentic colonial experience! We won’t just walk the Freedom Trail. We’ll live the Freedom Trail.”
That sounded better than living the family vacation, Stanley thought glumly. He had really messed things up with Dr. Dan, and he didn’t know how to fix them.
The Lambchop family followed Mr. Bradford and Hannah Noble through the streets of Boston. People stared at their clothing, but the guides acted like they didn’t even notice. Hannah swept her skirt up when they crossed the street. Mr. Bradford tipped his hat at a passing bus.
Soon they arrived at a small wooden house. “Here we are,” said Hannah. The Lambchops followed the guides inside.
“This house was built in 1680,” Hannah sai
d. “It was already old when Paul Revere moved in!” It looked like the house itself had traveled back in time, Stanley thought.
It was cool and dark inside the house. The wooden floor was a little uneven. The hallway was so narrow that only Stanley could walk through easily.
“Paul Revere lived here for many years. This is where he raised his sixteen children and ran his family’s silver business. But that’s not why we remember him today,” said Mr. Bradford.
He cleared his throat. “In the 1700s,” he began, “the people of Boston grew tired of living under British rule. The British made the colonists follow laws they didn’t like. One law was that they were supposed to buy tea from only one place. When a ship arrived with this tea, angry colonists dumped it all into Boston Harbor! This was known as the Boston Tea Party, and Paul Revere was one of its leaders.”
“That’s when the colonists started drinking hot cocoa instead of tea!” Mr. Lambchop joked.
Mr. Bradford smiled and continued. “Other colonies were tired of British rule, too. They wanted to know what was happening in Boston. But it wasn’t easy for them to be in touch with each other. There were no phones or computers, and letters took a long time to arrive. Sometimes they sent people with the news instead of sending letters.”
“I know what that’s like!” Stanley blurted out. Stanley was flat enough to be folded up in an envelope and shipped in a package. “I’ve done that many times!”
“Well, you’re lucky. You can be a person and a letter all at once,” Mrs. Lambchop pointed out.
“Paul Revere was often a messenger,” said Mr. Bradford. “Sometimes he would ride his horse all the way from Boston to Philadelphia just to share some news. It was a long trip, but he was a fast rider.”
Hannah picked up the story from there. “Then one night,” she said, “British soldiers arrived in Boston. They were there to make sure the colonists followed the laws. Many colonists were afraid there would be a war.”
Mr. Bradford led the Lambchops through another door. “Paul Revere helped spread the word that the soldiers were there. He arranged for two lanterns to be put in the steeple of the Old North Church. That was a code to tell people how the soldiers had arrived. They had not marched into the city. They had come on ships.”
“Then Revere set out on his horse,” Hannah finished. “He needed to warn his friends Samuel Adams and John Hancock that some of those soldiers were coming to arrest them. Adams and Hancock were in a town called Lexington. Paul Revere had to get to them before the soldiers did!”
She paused for a moment. Stanley couldn’t take the suspense.
“Did he get there in time?” asked Stanley.
“Yes and no,” Hannah replied.
“What? Do you mean yes? Or no?” Stanley asked again.
She smiled and avoided the question. “Let me show you around this house!”
Now the Lambchops were in a room with a big brick fireplace. Black pots and pans hung over the section where a fire would be. Were they for cooking? Stanley wondered. Was this the kitchen? It wasn’t like his family’s kitchen at all.
Mr. Bradford said, “Paul Revere was an important figure in American history. But his life in Boston was just like that of other colonists. He worked hard and lived simply. His family cooked over a wood fire, right here. They ate in this kitchen in the summer months. In the winter, they ate upstairs where it was warmer.”
Stanley frowned. “They didn’t have any heat?” he said. “They must have been freezing.” Boston got a lot of snow in winter.
Mr. Bradford led the boys to a table where there was a silver teapot and a group of silver cups. “These items are like the ones that Paul Revere made in his shop,” he said. “His job was to melt the metal and shape it into things that people could use.”
He began to pour from the pot.
“No tea for me,” said Arthur. “I mean, no thank you. At least not if it is the British kind.”
Hannah laughed. “Luckily, this is hot chocolate, just for you! But I see you are getting into the spirit of our tour. That is why I would like to invite you to a special event. Later this afternoon, we will be re-creating Paul Revere’s ride! Would you like to see him carry word to Lexington?”
Stanley wanted to know how this story ended. What happened to Paul Revere? Did he keep his friends from getting arrested?
Mr. Lambchop looked hopefully at Mrs. Lambchop. “It could be very educational,” he pointed out.
“It will be an adventure!” Arthur exclaimed.
Mrs. Lambchop spoke for the whole family. “Of course! We would love to!”
Secret Mission
At the edge of the Charles River, Stanley and his family waited for Paul Revere to arrive. Or for someone who was dressed up as Paul Revere, anyway. As soon as he got here, their adventure would begin!
It was hard to believe that, just the day before, they had seen this river from a duck boat. Or that Stanley had taken a swim! That seemed like a long time ago now. But not as long ago as the 1700s. Now his family looked like they were from that time themselves.
The Lambchops had changed their clothes and were now dressed like Boston colonists! Mrs. Lambchop was wearing a long dress. The boys and Mr. Lambchop were in short pants and long blue coats. Hannah had told them that the colonists wore blue and the British soldiers wore red. The colonists had a nickname for the British soldiers. They called them redcoats!
Stanley didn’t mind the ruffled shirt he was wearing under the coat. He didn’t mind the stiff shoes on his feet. The outfit was so different from his usual clothes that he felt like it was Halloween. The only problem was the hat. No matter what Stanley did, the three-cornered hat would not fit on his two-cornered head. It wobbled all over the place.
Mr. Bradford would be rowing the Lambchops, with Paul Revere, across the river to a different part of the city. Once they arrived, Paul Revere would get on a horse and ride to Lexington. He would try to get there before a group of people pretending to be British soldiers. He would also try to get there before the sun set!
“Here he is!” said Mr. Bradford as Paul Revere approached.
Paul Revere was tall and strong. He nodded at the Lambchop family, and stepped into Mr. Bradford’s rowboat. He kept his head down. It looked like he was hiding.
“Remember,” said Mr. Bradford, “Paul Revere took this trip in secret. If anyone spotted him crossing the water, he wouldn’t be able to take his ride.”
Maybe that was why he didn’t say hello, Stanley realized. He didn’t want to make any noise. This was a secret mission!
Present-day Boston was still alive around them. Stanley saw sailboats and water taxis on the river. But there was only open water in front of the simple rowboat.
Stanley pretended he was on a secret mission, too. It made him feel a little nervous, but also excited.
There were six people in the rowboat, and Mr. Bradford worked hard to get it going. “This is going to take forever!” Arthur whispered to his father.
“There were no motorboats in colonial times,” his father whispered back. “You just need to be patient.”
Mr. Bradford rowed silently across the water. Every time he dipped the paddles, he made sure there was no splash. If there were real British soldiers out here, Stanley was pretty sure no one would hear them.
After a while, Mr. Bradford worked up some speed and they coasted across the water. “That breeze feels nice,” said Mrs. Lambchop.
Maybe it was nice for a tired traveler, but it was not that nice for Stanley. He was too flat and too light to withstand it. In the middle of the rowboat, he had nothing to hang onto. Suddenly, with another gust of wind, Stanley was airborne. His legs flew up and his body went upside down!
Mr. Lambchop grabbed his hands just in time. “I’ve got you!” he cried. “Just hold on.”
Stanley was sticking up out of the boat like a sail. He was flapping loudly in the wind. A sail was the last thing he wanted to be.
Stanley hovered above t
he rowboat. The wind twisted him all around. He imagined everyone on the whole river could see him now. Did they think he was a flag? A kite? A lost sweater? So much for the secret mission.
“Just stay calm!” his mother said. “We’re almost there!”
Paul Revere kept his head down and coughed. Up in the air, Stanley turned red. He could tell that Paul Revere wasn’t happy about all this noise.
Then Mr. Bradford stopped rowing for a moment, and the breeze died down. Stanley almost belly-flopped into the water before his father caught him.
Stanley sat in the boat. He tried to catch his breath. Then Arthur hopped onto his lap! “I’ll weigh you down,” Arthur explained.
His little brother wasn’t the only thing weighing him down as they proceeded across the water. His thoughts were heavy, too. Stanley was embarrassed that he’d almost ruined the mission. And he was sad because his three-cornered hat was gone! It had been hard to wear, but now Stanley missed it. He didn’t look like a colonist anymore. He just looked like a kid in a funny outfit. He looked into the water and imagined his hat going out to sea.
Ahead of them was the neighborhood of Charlestown, where Paul Revere’s horse would be waiting. Behind them was the Boston skyline. Mrs. Lambchop turned to look. She tapped Stanley on the shoulder and pointed at a church steeple in the distance. “It’s the Old North Church!” she said in a low voice, full of wonder. “There are the signals!”
Paul Revere had arranged for two lanterns to be hung there—just for a minute—the night of his ride. The signals told the people of Boston that the British soldiers had arrived on ships. Someone had even written a famous poem about it. Mrs. Lambchop knew the poem by heart! She said some of the lines out loud, until Stanley saw the lights blink off.
“‘He said to his friend, “If the British march