"Then there was a figure of a great boot, with the Devil peeping out of it, to represent the king's minister, Lord Bute. When night came, all hands of us formed in procession, laid the effigies on a bier, marched to the Province House so that the villain, Governor Bernard, could see us, went to Mackerel Lane, tore down the building Oliver was intending to use for the sale of the stamps, went to Fort Hill, ripped the boards from his barn, smashed in his front door, and burned the effigies to let him know we never would consent to be taxed in that way. A few days later Oliver came to the tree, held up his hand, and swore a solemn oath that he never would sell any stamps, so help him God! And he never did, for ye see King George had to back down and repeal the bill. It was the next May when Shubael Coffin, master of the brigantine Harrison, brought the news. We set all the bells to ringing, fired cannon, and tossed up our hats. The rich people opened their purses and paid the debts of everybody in jail. We hung lanterns on the tree in the evening, set off rockets, and kindled bonfires. John Hancock kept open house, with ladies and gentlemen feasting in his parlors, and pipes of wine on tap in the front yard for everybody."
"It must have been a joyful day," said Robert.
"That's what it was. Everybody was generous. Last year when the day came round a lot of us gathered under the old tree to celebrate it. Sam Adams was there, James Otis, Doctor Warren, John Hancock, and ever so many more. We fired salutes, sang songs, and drank fourteen toasts. That was at ten o'clock. Just before noon we rode out to the Greyhound Tavern in Roxbury in carriages and chaises, and had a dinner of fish, roast pig, sirloin, goose, chickens and all the trimmings, topping off with plum-pudding and apple-pie, sang Dickenson's Liberty Song, drank thirty more toasts, forty-four in all, filling our glasses with port, madeira, egg-nogg, flip, punch, and brandy. Some of us, of course, were rather jolly, but we got home all right," said Mr. Bushwick, laughing.
"You mean that some of you were a little weak in the legs," said Robert.
"Yes, and that the streets were rather crooked," Mr. Bushwick replied, laughing once more.