#caleb tate

Like Charley had predicted, the Stamp Act didn't impact the Tates all too much. Yes, he caught word of protests in Boston and York City and up and down the colonies, but no such thing occurred in Henford-on-Bagley. The townsfolk went on with their lives, the only change being that they bought less books and paper.

The headmaster's name was John Bell, the same professor Xan had had when he had started school. Headmaster Bell was strict, and quick to assign extra work or hand out punishments. And his punishments hurt.

Xan didn't mind this - he never got in trouble, anyhow. He and his friend Chris Randolph sat in the front row, where they were always raising their hands and starting discussions about the lesson. Xan, to the dismay of most of his classmates, sometimes even asked for extra work - work he didn't have to do!

Cal, on the other hand, couldn't care less about school. He liked to read, sure, but in his own time, not when the teacher said so. His grades were only average, no matter how much Xan tried to get him to work harder. Cal's favorite part of the school day - if it could be called that - was recess, when he got to play with his friends Philip and Peter Ross, whose father owned a farm near the Tates'.

I warned you

Dear Diary,

To-day was very nice. It snowed too much to go to Church, which was sad, but Father made it up by reading us the Bible, specifically the Birth of Christ.

Eleanor and Sophia and I have been preparing the meal for ages, and this morning we finally got to eat it. It was delicious, if I do say so myself. By the time we finished eating dinner it was nearly Night, and we all went into the Hearth room.

Cal and Xan finished several chess matches while Sophia played her violin (she really is quite good); and when the boys were done Xan came over and sat with me on the floor while Cal and Isaac danced.

I'll admit feelings of Warmth came over me, as it did us all, and I hugged Xan from behind and told him I loved him. He laughed, but I know he loves me too. Similar whispers came from Charley, who was holding Little Lucy.

All in all it was a very good Christmas. I would have enjoyed some Gifts, like Chris says he gets each year, but I understand that Father is poor and cannot afford them.

It was snowing as we all went to sleep - well, most of us went to sleep. I suspect Eleanor and Father were otherwise occupied...

But, Diary, a Merry Christmas to you. All is Peaceful and Calm here on the Tate Farm, as I hope it shall always be.

Yours,

When Cal wasn't swimming or climbing trees, he loved to read, just like his idol, Xan.

Xan even passed on a few of his favorite books, dog-eared and annotated, to his Cal, so his little brother could experience the same exhilaration he had when reading the story for the first time.

Caleb had always been an independent child, satisfied with long hours playing in his room. He had to be, as for most of his life his parents and siblings tended to be busy. Besides that, it was a bit painful for Charley and the older kids to see Cal, with his brown hair and green eyes that were so close to Grace's.

Mostly, Cal flew under the radar, never one to get in trouble, nor one to go out of his way to get attention.

Cal's fifth birthday, in November of 1764, was a quiet affair, with only the family in attendance.

(Most couldn't help but remember what had occurred five years prior, but tried not to let the unhappy memories show.)

The midwife was called in time, and she helped Eleanor through the birth.

In the early hours of February 26, 1764, Lucy Jane Tate was born. She was quite small, but otherwise healthy.