the repeal of the Stamp Act, a large copper plate was
nailed upon the tree with the following inscription: "This tree was
planted in the year 1646 and pruned by the Order of the Sons of
Liberty February 14, 1766." Other trees stood near it, furnishing a
grateful shade. The locality before 1767 was known as Hanover Square,
but after the repeal of the Stamp Act, as Liberty Hall. In August,
1767, a flagstaff was raised above its branches; the hoisting of a
flag upon the staff was a signal for the assembling of the Sons of
Liberty.]

"Why do you call it the Liberty Tree?"

"Because it is where the Sons of Liberty meet. It is a mighty fine
tree, and, as near as we can make out, is more than one hundred years
old. We hang the Pope there on Guy Fawkes' day, and traitors to
liberty on other days."

"I have heard you have jolly good times on Gunpowder Plot days."

"You may believe we do. You would have laughed if you'd been here
Gunpowder day seven years ago this coming November, when the Pope,
Admiral Byng, Nancy Dawson,[4] and the Devil, all were found hanging
on the old elm."

[Footnote 4: Nancy Dawson, when a little girl, was employed in setting
up skittles for players in High Street, Mary-le-bone, London. She was
agile, graceful, and had an attractive figure. She first appeared as a
dancer at Sadler's Wells theatre, where she soon attracted much
attention, and in a short time became a great favorite. A rhymster
wrote a song for her which was introduced (1764) into the play, "Love
in a Valley." It was also arranged as a hornpipe for the harpsichord
and sung by young ladies throughout England. Children sang it in the
play, "Here we go round the Mulberry bush." The popularity of Nancy
Dawson was at its height in 1769.]

"I don't think I ever heard about Admiral Byng and Nancy Dawson."

"Well, then, I must tell ye. Byng didn't fight the French and
Spaniards at Minorca, but sailed away and sort o' showed the white
feather, and so was court-martialed and shot on his own ship."

"What did Nancy do?"

"Oh, Nancy never did anything except kick up her heels; she's the best
dancer in London, so they say. We haven't any theatre in this 'ere
town, and don't have much dancing. We have the Thursday lecture
instead."

Robert wondered whether the allusion to the lecture was said soberly
or in sarcasm.

"In London they go wild over dancing. Maybe I might sing a song about
her if ye would like to hear it."

"I would like ver