He had looked with all the awe of a small boy of twelve upon the fifty or more gentlemen--the delegates to the Congress--who, representing the thirteen colonies, were ranged in a half-circle on either side of Mr. Hancock, the President. But I think he admired, even more, the “elegant standard, suspended in the Congress Room,” over the door of entrance at which he sat with his friend the doorkeeper, and which was “a yellow flag with a lively representation of a rattlesnake in the middle in the attitude of going to strike, and these words underneath: ‘Don’t tread on me!’” He had been in the Congress Room so often that he knew most of the delegates by sight and name: that gentleman in the big chair behind the heavy mahogany table and the great silver inkstand--the gentleman with the scarlet coat and the black velvet breeches--was Mr. John Hancock, the President of the Congress--“Rosy John,” the Tory boys called him, much to young Joe’s ireful indignation; that gentleman in the long-waisted white cloth coat, scarlet vest and breeches, and white silk hose, was Mr. Jefferson of Virginia; that gentleman in the long buff coat and embroidered silk vest was, as of course every Philadelphia boy knew, the great Doctor Franklin; and there, too, were Mr. Adams and Mr. Gerry of Massachusetts, Mr. Sherman of Connecticut, Mr. Clinton of New York, Mr. Stockton of New Jersey, Mr. Carroll of Maryland, Mr. Lee of Virginia, Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina, and many others whose faces and whose voices had now grown familiar. Even his boyish mind, thoughtless of the present and careless of the future though it was, had felt the excitement of the moment when on Friday, June 7th, Mr. Richard Henry Lee of the Virginia colony had risen in his place and, “amidst breathless silence,” had read to the Congress this notable resolution: “_Resolved_, that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved.” Then Mr. John Adams of Massachusetts seconded the resolution, Mr. Thomson, the secretary, made the official entry in the Journal, the Congress, with but few words, postponed its consideration until the next day, and young Joe Nixon adjourned with the delegates, like them, half-dazed and half-jubilant. So, through the long June days, the Congress argued and debated and hesitated while young Joe Nixon--a true type of the restless Young America that is ever in a hurry for action and results--watched and wished and wondered, not thinking of what might be in the future save that King George was to be thrown overboard and the colonies were to set up for a Nation.