husetts, there was a regular
patrol of men armed with stout sticks. "What do you say, stamps or no
stamps?" they demanded of every stranger, and if he had a liking for a
whole skin, he replied emphatically, "No stamps." One wary newcomer
replied courteously, "I am what you are," and was uproariously cheered.

In going from one colony to another, it was not uncommon for a man to
get a passport from the sons of Liberty to attest to his standing as a
"Liberty man." When the stamps made their first appearance, Boston
tolled her church bells and put her flags at half-mast. Indeed, a new
sort of flag appeared in the shape of an effigy of Oliver, the stamp
distributor, swinging from the bough of a great elm which stood by the
main entrance to town. The Chief Justice ordered this image to be
removed. "Certainly," replied the people politely, "we will take it down
ourselves this very evening." So they did, but they laid it upon a bier
and marched in a long procession through the old State House. Here, in
the Council Chamber, the Governor and his Council were deliberating.
Shouts came up from below, "Liberty, Property, and no Stamps!" and
"Death to the man who offers a piece of stamped paper to sell!" "Beat an
alarm," the Chief Justice commanded the colonel of the militia. "But I
cannot," replied the colonel, "my drummers are in the mob." The
procession marched on, burned the effigy in front of the distributor's
house, gave three rousing cheers, and went home. In New York, when the
rumor spread that a ship laden with stamps was approaching, all the
vessels in the harbor put their colors at half-mast.

When every distributor of stamps had resigned his office, there was
another outburst of banners. Charleston, South Carolina, hoisted a
liberty flag, surmounted by a branch of laurel. The tree in Boston on
which the effigy of the stamp distributor had been hung had become an
important member of colonial society. It had been formally named the
"Liberty Tree," and the ground under it was called "Liberty Hall."
Banners were often swung from its branches, and notices were nailed to
its trunk. Fastened firmly to the trunk was a tall liberty pole, and
whenever any one caught a glimpse of a red flag waving from the top of
the pole, he knew that the Sons of Liberty were to hold a meeting.
When the Stamp Act was repealed, the Liberty Tree was the very center
of rejoicing. At one o'clock in the morning, the church bell nearest
it was rung joy