tering to Mr. Secretary Oliver, standing under the Liberty Tree
in a great assemblage of angry townspeople, an oath that he would take
no measures to enforce the odius Stamp Act of the British Parliament or
distribute it among the people.

And now the bar had a rank of its own, and Winthrop Adams had a strong
desire to see his son one of the shining lights in the profession. Cary
had a fine voice and was a good speaker. More than once he had
distinguished himself in an argument at some of the debates. To be
admitted to the office of Governor Gore was considered a high honor
then, and this Mr. Adams gained for his son. Cary had another vague
dream, but parental authority in well-bred families was not to be
disputed at that period, and Cary acquiesced in his father's decision,
since he knew his own must bring about much discussion and probably a
refusal.

Mrs. King came to visit her mother this summer. She left all her
children at home, as she wanted to visit round, and was afraid they
might be an annoyance to Aunt Priscilla. Little Ruth had gone home very
much improved, her eyes quite restored.

Uncle Winthrop enjoyed Mrs. King's society very much. She was
intelligent and had cultivated her natural abilities, she also had a
certain society suavity that made her an agreeable companion. Doris
thought her a good deal like Betty, she was so pleasant and ready for
all kinds of enjoyment. Aunt Priscilla considered her very frivolous,
and there was so much going and coming that she wondered Elizabeth did
not get crazy over it.

They were to remove to New York in the fall, Mr. King having perfected
his business arrangements. So Betty would have her winter in the gay
city after all.

There were many delightful excursions with pleasure parties up and down
the bay. The Embargo had been repealed, and the sails of merchant ships
were again whitening the harbor, and business people breathed more
freely.

There were Castle Island, with its fortifications and its waving flag,
and queer old dreary-looking Noddle's Island, also little towns and
settlements where one could spend a day delightfully. Every place, it
seemed to Doris, had some queer, interesting story, and she possessed an
insatiable appetite for them. There was the great beautiful sweep of
Boston Bay, with its inlets running around the towns and its green
islands everywhere--places that had been famous and had suffered in the
war, and were soon to suffer again.

Mrs