y relish. The work of demolishing the eatables then
went bravely on.

"Mr. Kinnison," said Mr. Colson, "there's one incident concerning that
tea-party that has slipped your memory. As our procession moved from the
wharf and passed the house of the tory Coffin, Admiral Montague raised
the window, and said, 'Ah! boys, you have had a fine evening for your
Indian caper; but mind, you've got to pay the fiddler yet!' Pitts here
shouted, 'Oh! never mind, never mind, squire! Just come out, if you
please, and we'll settle that bill in two minutes!' The people shouted,
and the admiral thought he had better put his head in in a hurry."

"That's true," remarked Kinnison. "Well, you see, my memory is poor.
Pitts would have mentioned it but for his modesty."

"I recollect it well," said Pitts. "If that tory Coffin had shown his
face that night, I wouldn't have given three cents for his life."

"I think I would have had a slash at him," observed Kinnison. "I felt as
savage as a Mohawk on a war-path."

"I don't want to interrupt your eating, Brown and Hanson," said Colson,
"but couldn't you stir us up a little with the drum and fife?"

"Ay," added young Hand, who seemed to be the general mouth-piece of the
younger portion of the company, "give us the air you played when you
marched up from Griffin's Wharf."

"No objection," replied Hanson. "Come, Brown, get out your whistle.
There's a little music left in it yet, I know."

The old fife was soon produced, and the drum also; and moving their
chairs a short distance from the table, the veteran musicians struck up
the stirring air of the old Massachusetts Song of Liberty, once so
popular throughout the colonies, and supposed to have been written by
Mrs. Warren.

"Hurra!" exclaimed Hand, when the musicians had concluded. "Three cheers
for the music and the musicians!" and three cheers were given quite
lustily by the young men, and some of the old ones.

"I have a copy of that Song of Liberty," said Hand. "Here it is, with
the music. I'll sing it and you must all join in the chorus."

"Good!" said Kinnison, and the others echoed him. Hand then sang the
following words, the young men joining in the chorus, and, occasionally,
some of the veterans attempting to do likewise.

Come swallow your bumpers, ye tories, and roar,
That the Sons of fair Freedom are hamper'd once more;
But know that no cut-throats our spirits can tame,
Nor a host of oppressors shall smother