ter years, to wish each other health and happiness, and chat
over the stirring events in which they had participated, and to which
their first bold deed was as the spark to dry hay, kindling to a fierce
blaze the ready seeds of war.

It was the fourth of July in Boston. Throughout the city which cradled
the Revolution, the anniversary of the birth of the free and happy
United States of America was celebrated with rejoicings unknown to the
shackled people of monarchical countries. Meetings were held in various
parts of the city, patriotic and democratic speeches made, bells rung,
cannons fired, pistols, crackers, and fireworks of all descriptions
discharged, toasts drank, and festivities of all kinds indulged. The
soldiers paraded the streets with fine bands discoursing most excellent
music, and followed by the usual crowd. Bunker Hill was the scene of a
large patriotic meeting, and the events of the 'trying time' were again
and again recounted with much enthusiasm.

But a more unusual and far more interesting meeting occurred in Boston,
about a quarter of a mile from the wharf known ever since the
commencement of the Revolution as Griffin's Wharf. In the upper room of
an old and somewhat dilapidated tavern were assembled a party of old and
young men--the representatives of two generations. Three of the old men
were the remaining members of the famous Lebanon Club; the first liberty
club formed in the colonies, and the one which designed and executed the
project of destroying the tea at Boston. They had come from various
parts of the country, upon agreement, to meet once more in the house
where the disguised members of the club had met on the evening of the
sixteenth of December, 1773. The names of the old patriots were David
Kinnison, Adam Colson, and Lendall Pitts. Five other veterans had joined
the party by invitation, together with half-a-dozen young men who had
arranged the meeting and paid all expenses, with a view of passing the
Fourth of July in a novel and interesting manner.

A well-laden table extended the whole length of the room, and flags,
banners, and appropriate emblems and devices, were hung on the walls.
There was no formal organization, as at public festivals, no president
elected, and no list of toasts prepared. It was intended to be a
sociable gathering. No band of well-arranged and harmonized instruments
appeared, but old Jacob Brown and old Samuel Hanson, a fifer and a
drummer of the continental