The attorney-general was made to tremble before the keen cuts of the falchion quill of this devoted patriot. So deep was his reasoning, so learned were his expositions, and so lucid and conclusive were his demonstrations, that his antagonist exclaimed, as he retired hissing from the conflict, “he strives to hide his inconsistencies under a huge pile of learning.” The pile proved too huge for royal power, and was sufficiently large to supply the people with an abundance of light. The supremacy of parliament was an unfortunate issue for ministers. It left the sages of liberty in a position to hurl their arrows freely at _them_, without denying the allegiance of the colonists to the _king_. The British cabinet worked out its own destruction, if not with fear and trembling, it was with blindness and disgrace—a disgrace arising from the grossest impolicy and injustice, if not to say ignorance and infatuation. They were entirely mistaken in the people of America—they awoke the wrong passengers. In May, 1775, Mr. Adams again took his seat in Congress. The members convened under quite different feelings from those that pervaded their bosoms the previous autumn. Revolution was now rolling fearfully upon their bleeding country, hope of redress was expiring like the last flickerings of an exhausted taper, dark and portentous clouds were accumulating, the ministerial ermine was already steeped in blood, the chains of servitude were clanking in their ears, the dying groans of their fellow citizens and the mournful lamentations of widows and orphans were resounding through the land, and the prophetic conclusion of Adams and Henry, drawn at the previous session, began to force itself upon the minds of members, that “_after all we must fight_.” As a preliminary measure, it was necessary to appoint a commander of the military forces to be raised. To fix upon the _best_ man was of vital importance. Many were yet chanting the song of peace and thought it premature to make such an appointment, lest it should widen the breach which they still hoped might be repaired. The New England delegates were not of this class. When the purple current was wantonly diverted from its original channel upon the heights of Lexington, they hung their syren harps upon the weeping willows that shaded the tombs of their murdered brethren. They were convinced that war was inevitable. All soon became satisfied that prudence dictated a preparation for such an event. A suitable man to lead the armies and direct their course was a desideratum. The southern members were willing to submit to any nomination made by the eastern delegates. General Artemas Ward of Massachusetts was fixed upon by most of them, except John Adams. In George Washington he had discovered the commingling qualities of a philanthropist, a philosopher, a statesman and a hero. He was prompted by the force of moral courage to at once urge his colleagues to sanction his choice. They were all opposed to it, as were also the