n arrow from his bow. Over the wide front door was a
balcony, in which the chief justice had often stood when the governor
and high officers of the province showed themselves to the people.

While Chief Justice Oliver gazed sadly at the Province House, before
which a sentinel was pacing, the double leaves of the door were thrown
open, and Sir William Howe made his appearance. Behind him came a throng
of officers, whose steel scabbards clattered against the stones as they
hastened down the court-yard. Sir William Howe was a dark-complexioned
man, stern and haughty in his deportment. He stepped as proudly in that
hour of defeat as if he were going to receive the submission of the
rebel general.

The chief justice bowed and accosted him.

"This is a grievous hour for both of us, Sir William," said he.

"Forward! gentlemen," said Sir William Howe to the officers who attended
him; "we have no time to hear lamentations now."

And, coldly bowing, he departed. Thus the chief justice had a foretaste
of the mortifications which the exiled New-Englanders afterwards
suffered from the haughty Britons. They were despised even by that
country which they had served more faithfully than their own.

A still heavier trial awaited Chief Justice Oliver, as he passed onward
from the Province House. He was recognized by the people in the street.
They had long known him as the descendant of an ancient and honorable
family. They had seen him sitting in his scarlet robes upon the
judgment-seat. All his life long, either for the sake of his ancestors
or on account of his own dignified station and unspotted character,
he had been held in high respect. The old gentry of the province were
looked upon almost as noblemen while Massachusetts was under royal
government.

But now all hereditary reverence for birth and rank was gone. The
inhabitants shouted in derision when they saw the venerable form of the
old chief justice. They laid the wrongs of the country and their own
sufferings during the siege--their hunger, cold, and sickness--partly to
his charge and to that of his brother Andrew and his kinsman Hutchinson.
It was by their advice that the king had acted in all the colonial
troubles. But the day of recompense was come.

"See the old tory!" cried the people, with bitter laughter. "He is
taking his last look at us. Let him show his white wig among us an hour
hence, and we'll give him a coat of tar and feathers!"

The chief justice, howe