‘The Stamp Act shall not be executed here,’ ex-
claimed one who spoke the general sentiment.
‘Death to the man who offers a piece of stamped paper to sell!’
‘All the power of Great Britain
,’ said a third, “shall not oblige us to submit to the Stamp Act.”
‘We will die,’ declared even the sober-minded, ‘we will die upon the place first.’1
‘We have sixty thousand fighting-men in this colony alone,’ wrote Mayhew
‘And we will spend our last blood in the cause,’ repeated his townsmen.
directed the colonel of the militia to beat an alarm.
‘My drummers,’ said he, ‘are in the mob.’
With the sheriff, Hutchinson
went up to disperse the crowd.
‘Stand by, my boys,’ cried a ringleader; ‘let no man give way;’ and Hutchinson
, as he fled, was obliged to run the gauntlet, yet escaping with one or two blows.
At eleven, the multitude repaired to the Province House
, where Bernard
lived, and after three cheers, they dispersed quietly.
‘We have a dismal prospect before us,’ said Hutchinson
, the next morning, anticipating tragical events in some of the colonies.
‘The people of Connecticut
,’ reported one whose name is not given, ‘have threatened to hang their distributor on the first tree after he enters the colony.’
,’ said Bernard
, with rueful gravity, ‘had been found last night, he would certainly have been murthered.’
‘If he does not resign,’ thought many, ‘there will be another riot to-night, and his house will be pulled down about his ears.’
So the considerate self-seeker,