's vessel.' What are we to the throne of England!"

He heard of Bunker Hill, and his old heart beat free again.

"What did I tell you?" he said. "King George took the rebels in his arms
and beat them against Bunker Hill. He'll plant his mighty heel on
Philadelphia some day, and may it fall on the head of Benjamin Franklin,
for of all rebels he is the most dangerous. Oh, that Franklin! He is now
advocating the independence of the colonies!"

The Provincial Congress began to assemble, and cavalcades went out to
meet the members as they approached the city on horseback. The Virginia
delegation were so escorted into the city with triumph. The delegates
were now assembling to declare the colony free. Independence was in the
air.

Terrible days were these to Mr. Calamity. As often as he heard the word
"independence" on the street his cane would fly up, and after this spasm
his snuffbox would come out of his pocket for refreshment. His snuffbox
was silver, and on it in gold were the king's arms.

He was a generous man despite his fears. He was particularly generous
with his snuff. He liked to pass it around on the street, for he thereby
displayed the king's arms on his snuffbox.

When the Massachusetts delegates came, the city was filled with joy. But
Samuel Adams was the soul of the movement for independence, and after
his arrival independence was more and more discussed, which kept poor
old Mr. Calamity's cane continually flying. But his feelings were
terribly wounded daily by another event of common occurrence. As he
passed the snuffbox to the Continentals he met, and showed the royal
arms upon it, they turned away from him; they would not take snuff from
the royal snuffbox. These were ominous times indeed.

The province of Pennsylvania had decreed that no one should hold any
office derived from the authority of the king. For a considerable period
there was no government in Pennsylvania, no authority to punish a crime
or collect a debt, but all things went on orderly, peacefully, and well.

Old Mr. Calamity used to sit under the great elm tree at Shakamaxon in
the long summer days and extend his silver snuffbox to people as they
passed. The tree was full of singing birds; flowers bloomed by the way,
and the river was bright; but to him the glory of the world had fled,
for the people no longer would take snuff from the box with the royal
arms.

One day a lady passed who belonged to the days of the Penns and the
Pro