"C'mon Canada! We don't want to be late!" America yelled as he ran up Essex Street toward Boston Common. He ran past the elm tree on the corner of Essex and Orange Streets to the large open field in the town. Already a large crowd of boys and young men had assembled putting the finishing touches on their parade wagon.

Canada followed behind, his face red with anger as well as trying to catch his breath and keep up with America. He plowed into America's back before he realized the other young colony had stopped to talk to a rotund boy wearing glasses named Henry, one of the lieutenants of the South End gang.

"You can be our purser tonight America," the portly book seller's apprentice said, handing America a small leather bag to collect their earnings for the night's festivities.

"Right!" America answered, tying the leather pouch to his belt. He turned to a still red-faced Canada, who scowled at him unflinchingly.

"And why exactly." He spat out, "do I need to be here? You know I don't like this at all!"

"Because," America replied, "It's fun, you need to get out of the house and get away from those smut books you like to read, and the boy who was going to be one of our puppeteers is sick and couldn't make it. You're taking his place!" He grinned at the still angry colony whose frown only deepened with each point America made.

"For starters, I hardly think a celebration that mocks the religion of most of my colonists can be called fun, I don't read smut, they're books that use humor to illustrate current social and political situations, and why out of all the boys here am I the one who has to get on that damn wagon wearing one of those stupid outfits? Which one do I have to wear anyway?"

America's grin turned mischievous. "Nancy Dawson."

Canada's jaw dropped. "What?! Why do I have to wear the girl costume?"

"Because if you don't, I'll tell England next time he's here what kind of books you have stashed under your bed!" America laughed, "Also, no one here has prettier blond locks than you!" The last remark earned the colony laughter from several boys standing nearby. America's grin turned more sinister as he grabbed Canada by the collar and dragged him to the wagon where the other boys were already putting on their costumes. One boy struggled into an evil looking devil's mask, with long curving horns and a toothy leer. The other boy tried to figure out how to not trip while wearing the long robe of his pope costume and keep the ridiculously tall mitre balanced on his head. America picked up the dress and mask of the famous actress and tossed them at Canada. "Hurry up and get dressed, we're leaving soon."

Canada scowled as he struggled into the costume, getting a bit of grim satisfaction when the seam in one of the sleeves ripped open. His face grew even redder with embarrassment as he positioned the unmistakably female mask over his face and figured out a way to fasten it to his head. America and another boy gave him a hand up and he found himself standing on the rather unsteady wagon bed. He looked down at the wheels of the contraption with apprehension, hoping they were fastened to the axle properly.

"Right!" An older boy identified as the captain of the South End gang spoke up, "Everybody shut up and listen! We need boys to help move the wagon round the town; America's our purser this year. No one else collects donations but him, got it?" The other boys all nodded their heads. "Good, now Henry will stay with the wagon in case anything goes wrong with it, that includes any North Enders trying to pinch it from us. You know what to do if you see any of them!" The boys all laughed and nodded, some even punched their fists into their open hands. Canada watched it through the eye slits in his mask, a sinking sense of fear gripping him. "Who are our lookouts in case we see the North Ender's wagon?" Several rough looking boys from the shipyards, some holding rope beating bats raised their hands. Canada's sinking feeling became full-on dread.

"Alright then, let's get the party started!" A cheer rose up from the large mob as a group of boys, including America ran up the wagon and began to pull or push at it to get it in motion. It took no time at all before the wobbly wheels on the cart lurched forward and the parade left the Common for the town. Someone handed the devil a pitchfork and Canada did everything he could to keep his balance as the cart rolled over the uneven cobblestones toward the first house on the street.

The cart came to a lurching stop, and America ran up to the front door, banging on it as loud as he could. "Donations for the Pope-Night cart!" He shouted at the door, which opened, and a man in his waistcoat holding a letter in his hand came to the door. America turned to the assembled mob and shouted, "Time for the show boys!" At which point the other two boys on the cart danced, and the other boys began to sing:

The fifth of November,
As you well remember,
Was gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason,
Should ever be forgot. . . .

The devil then began to chase the pope around on the cart, the former prodding at the latter with the pitchfork, while the hapless pope yelped and tried not to trip over his robe, keeping the mitre almost straight on his head. The song continued on …

Here is the pope that we have got,
The whole promoter of the plot!
We'll stick a pitchfork in his back,
And throw him in the fire!"

Their dance ended and Canada felt someone smack at his legs. "Start dancing idiot!" He yelped and started to jump around, trying to remember the stupid dance little girls were taught named after the famous British actress:

When first with Nancy Dawson
The Hornpipe came in fashion
We ev'rv one to dance begun
And Jigg'd throughout the nation
 And a jigging we will go!

Canada felt embarrassment and shame as he danced the little jig; he would have to come up with a really good way to get back at America for humiliating him like this he thought. He began imagining ways to torture him as he danced until everyone stopped singing. He saw America hold his hand out to the man, and a few coins were put in it. The colony dropped them in the open leather pouch to great cheers from the mob of boys, happy to see the first donation for their upcoming feast secured. Canada once again held on for dear life as the cart lurched into motion headed for the next house.

This routine continued on and on, much to Canada's growing poor mood and horror, as at each stop he had to dance the ridiculous little jig wearing the ridiculous little dress and mask, and America collected more money. He could see the little leather pouch getting heavy on the young colony's belt, and wondered what they would buy with it.

Just then Canada felt one of the front wheels of the cart hit a deep rut between the cobblestones, and the axle pin holding it in place snapped, sending him and the other puppeteers sprawling into the street. The boys pushing the cart all gasped as the wagon fell down, unable to move.

America ran up, panic clearly on his face when he saw the wagon wheel laying in the street and the cart resting on it's axle. Canada sat up, groaning when he saw the deep scrapes on his knees, blood oozing out and growled. "Damn it America, I'm through!" He shouted, pulling off the hated mask and throwing it on the cobblestones.

"Like hell you are!" America shouted back, kicking the mask back to Canada's feet. "We have to get this wagon moving again before the North Enders find us and steal it!" A group of boys rushed forward and tried to put the wagon back on the axle, but with no replacement for the axle pin it was hopeless. America ran his hand fearfully through his hair and finally turned and bellowed into the night as loud as he could, "HEEEEENNNRRRRYYYY!!!"

A few seconds later the large bookkeepers apprentice that had given America the leather purse huffed his way up the street and took quick stock of the situation. "Aw fuck!" He groaned, "We have to get this thing moving now!" He trotted up, and picked up the open end of the axle and said, "Let's go boys!" and once again the cart moved up the street, with Henry acting as a wheel to keep it level. Canada and the other puppeteers jumped back on and the cart moved on to the rest of the houses they planned to visit that night.

Finally, with Henry red faced, and covered in sweat in the cold November night, they made their way to the meetinghouse in the center of town for the main event. In the distance they could see the North End gang's cart coming into view. Canada felt animosity and anticipation wash over the group as they faced their enemy in the square in front of the meetinghouse.

The Captain of the North Enders walked up and laughed, pointing at Henry, still struggling to hold up the axle of the cart, he had it resting on a pudgy thigh and glared at the boy who yelled. "Oy! Look at what the South Enders are usin' for a wheel this year! At least he's as round as one!" The rest of the North Enders laughed.

The Captain of the South End gang came forward and shouted back, "Henry may be round in body, but at least he's not a fat headed buffoon like you!" The South Enders all cheered, grinning maliciously at the mob across from them. Canada looked at America's face, grinning with anticipation, his hands balled into fists, and that look in his eyes that made the colony want to hide behind Kumajirou whenever he saw it. He wished right then Kuma was there right now, instead of resting comfortably and shedding all over his bed at home. Suddenly, a silent cue must have been given because the two mobs rushed forward screaming at each other, fists and rope beating bats flying. Canada squealed has he was almost run over by the mob, but before he could shout in protest a boy from the rival gang ran up and tried to punch him in the face. He dodged the fist aimed at him and buried his own fist in the kid's cheek, sending him flying back and landing on his ass in the street. Canada turned and saw three more boys coming at him; he looked frantically for America but the other colony had been in the front line of boys rushing into the fight, and was already gleefully in the thick of brawl.

The first of the three boys reached Canada, and the colony stuck his foot out and tripped him, the second and third boy grabbed each of his arms and held him down, while the first boy got up and walked toward him. "That was a bitch move you little turd." He spat out.

Canada had finally had enough, he saw red and yelled back, "A bitch move for a bitch like you!" He head butted the kid and sent him sprawling again. He jerked his arms together and made the other two boys run into each other, and they both fell back crying out. They dropped their grip on his arms and he ran forward, tearing the hated dress to shreds and throwing it away. He had had enough of this whole affair, and it was time to find the jerk responsible and make him pay.

He punched and kicked his way through the crowd of brawling boys; dodging fists and clubs hurled his way. He found America, lip bleeding, that stupid grin on his face straddling a North Ender on the ground and pummeling him mercilessly.

Canada ran up and punched the goon America sat on, knocking him unconscious, then he grabbed America's collar and hauled him to his feet. "I can't believe you dragged me to this you asshole!" He fumed.

America looked at him and smiled, "Hey you can thank me later I'm a little busy right now!"

Canada's eyes grew wide and he snarled back, "Why you …" He reared back and punched America in the face as hard as he could. The colony fell back and hit the ground. America shook his head and blinked his eyes, then looked up at Canada and shouted. "Damn it I though I said you could thank me later!" He jumped back to his feet in time to punch a kid coming at Canada with a large cudgel. Suddenly loud cheers went up as more South Enders were still standing than North Enders. A group of boys ran forward and seized the North Ender's wagon, and the cheering, limping, black eyed and bloody nosed mob made their way back to Boston Common.

The money America had collected in the leather bag as the gang's purser had been used to buy an enormous feast for the boys. They took the North Ender's cart to the center of the field and with scrap wood collected earlier in the evening, set their rival's cart on fire (but not before saving an axle pin to fix their own wagon first). The boys danced around the fire and cheered, drinking beer and hard cider; stuffing their faces on the food they had bought with the evening's earnings.

America walked up to Canada carrying two small jugs of hard cider. He handed one to Canada and uncorked his own, taking a long swig. "So, despite having to wear a dress and dance a girl's dance, did you have fun tonight?"

Canada took a drink from his own jug. "I still don't like that you're mocking the religion of the majority of my colonists." He replied, "And if you ever force me into anything where I have to wear a dress again, I'll make sure you have to wear one permanently."

America spewed a mouthful of cider and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You don't mean that do you? Come on Canada, you had fun tonight, admit it."

"Shut up idiot." Canada said, staring at the remnants of the North Ender's cart going up in flames; a faint smile on his lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Before there was Halloween in colonial America there was Pope Night. Protestants from England had settled New England, and they brought the celebration of Guy Fawkes Day with them to the new world. The holiday eventually became known in Boston as Pope-Night, and grew so violent over time that in 1764 one boy was killed when he was run over by one of the parade carts. With the beginning of colonial resistance to England's new direct taxes, men like Samuel Adams and John Hancock began organizing the South End and North End gangs for the purpose of protesting the Stamp act and the other taxes and acts that came after. Eventually the Pope-Night carts took on a more anti-British theme, with effigies of unpopular British officials like Governor Thomas Hutchinson.

During the war, especially once France joined the Americans George Washington asked, begged, pleaded and finally ordered the Pope-Night celebration cancelled, especially in Boston where it was the biggest and most violent of all of them. After the Revolution the custom fell out of practice. In the 19th century when Irish immigrants came to America they brought the tradition of Halloween with them.

Henry Knox, the bookkeeper's apprentice who held up the wagon on Pope-Night became a hero of the American Revolution when he stole several cannons from the British at Fort Ticonderoga and delivered them in person to George Washington. He served as the artillery commander for the entire war, and when Washington became president he served as his Secretary of War.