"They are lighting a bonfire, father."
"What for?"
"To burn the king's arms."
"What will we do without a king?"
"They will have a Congress."
A great shout went up on a near hill.
"But, Mercy—daughter—a Congress is men. A Congress is not a power ordained. Oh, that I should ever live to see a day like this! 'Twas Franklin did it. I can see it all—it was he; it was the printer boy from Boston."
Darkness fell. It was nine o'clock now. There was a discharge of firearms, and a great flame mounted up from the pile on the hill, and put out the stars and filled the heavens.
"Father, let us go home."
"No, let me stay here under the tree."