Mr. Molineux said he was ready to banish the teapot from his table.
“I believe,” continued the doctor, “that the women of America will be ready to give up the gratification of their appetites to maintain a great principle. They will sacrifice all personal considerations to secure the rights of the Colonies. Parliament proposes to tax this country without our having a voice in the matter. It is a seductive and insidious proposition—this export duty. I suppose they think we are simpletons, and will be caught in the trap they are setting. They think we are so fond of tea we shall continue to purchase it, but the time has come when we must let them know there is nothing so precious to us as our rights and liberties; that we can be resolute in little as well as in great things. I dare say that some of you, like myself, have invitations to Mrs. Newville’s garden party to-morrow afternoon. I expect to attend, but it will be the last tea-party for me, if the bill before Parliament becomes a law. Mrs. Newville is an estimable lady, a hospitable hostess; having accepted an invitation to be present, it would be discourteous for me to inform her I could not drink a cup of tea from her hand, but I have made up my mind henceforth to stand resolutely for maintaining the principle underlying it all,—a great fundamental, political principle,—our freedom.”
The room rang with applause.
“Sometimes, as some of you know, I try my hand at verse-making. I will read a few lines.”
FREE AMERICA.
That seat of Science, Athens,
And earth’s proud mistress, Rome:
Where now are all their glories?
We scarce can find their tomb.
Then guard your rights, Americans,
Nor stoop to lawless sway;
Oppose, oppose, oppose,
For North America.
We led fair Freedom hither,
And lo, the desert smiled,
A paradise of pleasure
Was opened in the wild.
Your harvest, bold Americans,
No power shall snatch away.
Huzza, huzza, huzza,
For free America.
Some future day shall crown us
The masters of the main;
Our fleets shall speak in thunder
To England, France, and Spain.
And nations over ocean spread
Shall tremble and obey
The sons, the sons, the sons,
Of brave America.
Captain Mackintosh sang it, and the hall rang with cheers.
“It is pitiable,” said Mr. Rowe, “that the people of England do not understand us better, but what can we expect when a member of Parliament makes a speech like that delivered by Mr. Stanley just before the last ship sailed. Hear it.”
Mr. Rowe, taking a candle in one hand and snuffing it with his thumb and finger, read an extract from the speech: “What will become of that insolent town, Boston, when we deprive the inhabitants of the power of sending their molasses to the coast of Africa? The people of that town must be treated as aliens, and the charters of towns in Massachusetts must be changed so as to give the king the appointment of the councilors, and give the sheriffs the sole power of returning juries.”