Welcome to the History Tricks, where any resemblance to a boring old history lesson is purely coincidental.

Hello, it's back in here with a tiny seasonal minicast especially for the upcoming Fourth of July holiday.

For those listeners outside the United States, July 4, 1776 was the day that the colonists, that would be us, formally threw down the gauntlet to Britain's King George with the Declaration of Peace.

During our Revolutionary War, which was fought between 1775 and 1783, I'll move forward here with some assumptions of basic knowledge of the Revolutionary War and some of the people involved.

But for those outside the United States, I might recommend historyforkids.org's page just as a basic background.

And now, on to our story.

Everyone's heard of Paul Revere, right? He wrote 20 miles yelling, the British are coming, the British are coming, except, of course, you know, he didn't.

No fool rides through town screaming his head off when the point is stealth. But he did wait people to let them know, quote, the regulars are marching.

And he made it into a schoolhouse rocksong. Come on children of the 70s and 80s sing it with me.

Now the ride of Paul Revere said the nation on its ear and the shot at Lexington heard around the world.

Nice and nostalgic. But let me tell you about another ride. This one was two years later in April of 1777.

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark anyway, and Colonel Henry Leadington's household, including his 12 children, were fast asleep.

Colonel Leadington was the commander of a militia regiment, the Duchess County 7th of New York, and was the hub of a spy or communications network, depending on which side you're on.

So we're all snoozing, and this dude comes blazing out of the night.

Crashes into the courtyard and bangs on the door, the British had landed. They were getting ready to lay waste a Danbury Connecticut.

The Colonel's hair basically stood on end where our weapons store is, and then the messenger collapsed.

He'd ridden hell for leather, as they say, and he was done. Now the Colonel had a real problem.

He'd given his men leave to go home for spring planting, and now they were scattered miles in every direction.

He was in a pickle. He had to be there when his men came rolling in, writing in.

He needed to get his strategy in place. His supplies pulled together, and he's not tweeting my house, ASAP! In 1777, the family had heard the commotion, of course, and the Colonel looked over at his children. What was he going to do?

His eyes rested on his eldest daughter, Sibul, who had just turned 16.

Can you, Sibul? She knew what, and it was a lot to ask.

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