ered at a low price the goods he had brought out in the
bark, thinking thus to propitiate his enemies. This step but inflamed
them the more.

My grandfather having much business to look to, I was left to my own
devices, and the devices of an impetuous lad of twelve are not always
such as his elders would choose for him. I was continually burning with
a desire to see what was proceeding in the town, and hearing one day a
great clamour and tolling of bells, I ran out of the Governor's gate and
down Northwest Street to the Circle, where a strange sight met my eyes.
A crowd like that I had seen on the dock had collected there, Mr. Swain
and Mr. Hammond and other barristers holding them in check. Mounted
on a one-horse cart was a stuffed figure of the detested Mr. Hood.
Mr. Hammond made a speech, but for the laughter and cheering I could not
catch a word of it. I pushed through the people, as a boy will, diving
between legs to get a better view, when I felt a hand upon my shoulder,
bringing me up suddenly. And I recognized Mr. Matthias Tilghman, and
with him was Mr. Samuel Chase.

"Does your grandfather know you are here, lad?" said Mr. Tilghman.

I paused a moment for breath before I answered: "He attended the rally
at the dock himself, sir, and I believe enjoyed it."

Both gentlemen smiled, and Mr. Chase remarked that if all the other party
were like Mr. Carvel, troubles would soon cease. "I mean not Grafton,"
says he, with a wink at Mr. Tilghman.

"I'll warrant, Richard, your uncle would be but ill pleased to see you in
such company."

"Nay, sir," I replied, for I never feared to speak up, "there are you
wrong. I think it would please my uncle mightily."

"The lad hath indifferent penetration," said Mr, Tilghman, laughing, and
adding more soberly: "If you never do worse than this, Richard, Maryland
may some day be proud of you."

Mr. Hammond having finished his speech, a paper was placed in the hand of
the effigy, and the crowd bore it shouting and singing to the hill, where
Mr. John Shaw, the city carpenter, had made a gibbet. There nine and
thirty lashes were bestowed on the unfortunate image, the people crying
out that this was the Mosaic Law. And I cried as loud as any, though I
knew not the meaning of the words. They hung Mr. Hood to the gibbet and
set fire to a tar barrel under him, and so left him.

The town wore a holiday look that day, and I was loth to go back to
the Governor's house. Good patriots' sh