the country. Philip no longer
shared my studies, his hours having been changed from morning to
afternoon. I thought nothing of this, being content with the rector's
explanation that my uncle had a task for Philip in the morning, now
that Mr. Carvel was better. And I was well content to be rid of Philip's
company. But as the days passed I began to mark an absence still
stranger. I had my Horace and my Ovid still: but the two hours from
eleven to one, which he was wont to give up to history and what he was
pleased to call instruction in loyalty, were filled with other matter.
Not a word now of politics from Mr. Allen. Not even a comment from him
concerning the spirited doings of our Assembly, with which the town
was ringing. That body had met but a while before, primed to act on the
circular drawn up by Mr. Adams of Massachusetts. The Governor's message
had not been so prompt as to forestall them, and I am occupied scarce
the time in the writing of this that it took our brave members to adopt
the petition to his Majesty and to pass resolutions of support to our
sister colony of the North. This being done, and a most tart reply
penned to his Excellency, they ended that sitting and passed in
procession to the Governor's mansion to deliver it, Mr. Speaker Lloyd
at their head, and a vast concourse of cheering people at their heels.
Shutters were barred on the Tory houses we passed. And though Mr. Allen
spied me in the crowd, he never mentioned the circumstance. More than
once I essayed to draw from him an opinion of Mr. Adams's petition,
which was deemed a work of great moderation and merit, and got nothing
but evasion from my tutor. That he had become suddenly an American in
principle I could not believe. At length I made bold to ask him why
our discussions were now omitted. He looked up from the new play he was
reading on the study lounge, with a glance of dark meaning I could not
fathom.

"You are learning more than I can teach you in Gloucester Street, and at
the Stadt House," he said.

In truth I was at a loss to understand his attitude until the day in
June my grandfather and I went to Carvel Hall.

The old gentleman was weak still, so feeble that he had to be carried
to his barge in a chair, a vehicle he had ever held in scorn. But he
was cheerful, and his spirit remained the same as of old: but for that
spirit I believe he had never again risen from his bed in Marlboro'
Street. My uncle and the rector were among th