molasses
is made in these Colonies. He confounds this and the other Colonies
with Jamaica. One would suppose Lord North would not be quite so
bitter, but he said in a recent speech that America must be made to
fear the king; that he should go on with the king's plan until we were
prostrate at his feet."

"Not much will we get down on our knees to him," said Peter Bushwick.
"Since the war with France, to carry on which the Colonies contributed
their full share, the throne isn't feared quite as much as it was.
Americans are not in the habit of prostrating themselves."

Captain Mackintosh once more broke into a song.

"Come join hand in hand, Americans all;
By uniting we stand, dividing we fall.
To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain,
For shame is to freedom more dreadful than pain.
In freedom we're born, in freedom we'll live.
Our purses are ready: steady, boys, steady,
Not as slaves but as freemen our money we'll give."

The Sons again clapped their hands and resolved that they would drink
no more tea. The formal business of the evening being ended, they
broke into groups, helped themselves to crackers and cheese, and
lighted their pipes.

A young man about Robert's age came and shook hands with him.

"Did I understand correctly that you are Robert Walden from Rumford?"
he asked.

"That is my name, and I am from Rumford."

"Then we are cousins; I am Tom Brandon."

"I was intending to call upon you to-morrow."

"You must go with me to-night. Father and mother never would forgive
me if I did not take you along, especially when I tell them how you
rubbed it into the king's lobsters."

The bells were ringing for nine o'clock--the hour when everybody in
Boston made preparations for going to bed. All the Sons of Liberty
came and shook hands with Robert.

"It is the most wholesome lesson the villains have had since they
landed at Long Wharf," said Doctor Warren, who hoped to have the
pleasure of seeing more of Mr. Walden.

"We must rely upon such as you in the struggle which we are yet to
have to maintain our liberties," said Mr. Molineux.

Tom Brandon took Robert with him to his home on Copp's Hill. Robert
could see by the light of the moon that it was a large wooden house
with a hipped roof, surmounted by a balustrade, fronting the burial
ground and overlooking the harbor and a wide reach of surrounding
country.

"Why, Robert Walden! where did you come from?" Mr. B