Excerpt from The Peerage, 1957

This is the perfect setting for a sojourn in reverie, a time for dreams of the great adventures and thrilling episodes in the lives of my ancestors.

As I sit on a stack of old books with these keepsakes spread out around me, I pick up one and then another, imagining the part that each has played in the shaping of this great nation, which I call my own.

A piece of metal catches my eye and when I pick it up, I see that it is an ordinary shoe buckle. Once shining and bright as it twinkled from the boot of a stern old Puritan gentleman, it is now tarnished and dull. Worth saving? Yes, for it was the one small bit of frivot in the stern and somber dress of my forefather.

He spoke for democracy, crying out that he would not be governed by a king. He would worship his God in his own way.

What could this small, worn piece of leather be but a bit of the reins from the horse of John Mason. As the alarm reached him, John leaped upon his horse and joined the other Minutemen to save the towns of Lexington and Concord from the oppression of the British Red Coats.

His good wife Sarah clipped this piece from the reins, knowing that someone would someday hold it in his hands, and remembering the valor of John and the other men, feel the stirring cry of democracy in his soul.

My attention is attracted to a torn piece of paper, yellowed with age, written in a 5013 and flourishing hand. I think of July 2, 1776, and stirring words setting hearts afire, bringing men to break the bonds that tied them to England. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness these words leap from this worn copy of the Declaration of Independence. The members of the Continental Congress knew that their destiny lay in these words. Men like my ancestor, Charles Carroll of Carrollton, penned their names to the flaming document. These were men who acted as they thought, men who were the strength of our heritage.

A piece of faded cloth lies on the floor before me, and as I bring it to the light, I can see the faint markings that make it a Confederate flag. Which of my ancestors held this bravely aloft? Could it have been George Duncan who stood stiffly at attention on the battlefield at Appomattox, and watched the surrender of Lee through tear-dimmed eyes? Or could it have been plucky Ann Sutton, who bravely clutched her flag as Sherman marched through Georgia, driving her from her home in Savannah?

About the Publisher

Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.