But I have left the laughter of the last century echoing among the columns of Andrew Hamilton’s home. The guests were made welcome, and had a dish of tea or a glass of punch; and those desiring no more bohea set a spoon across the cup, and fell into groups. My aunt opened the velvet bag which hung at her waist, to pay Mrs. Ferguson a small gambling debt of the night before. “Ah, here!” she cried gaily, “Mr. Montresor, this is for you. One of Mr. Grenville’s stamps; I kept two. I was lucky enough to get them from Master Hughes, the stamp officer--a great curiosity. You shall have one.” Mr. Montresor bowed. “I will keep it,” he said, “until it comes into use again.” “That will be never,” said Andrew Allen, turning. “Never!” repeated Miss Wynne. “Let us hope, sir, it may be a lesson to all future ministers.” “A man was wanted in New York in place of Mr. Gage,” cried Mrs. Ferguson. “As to those New England Puritans, they were in rebellion before they came over, and have been ever since.” “And what of New York, and this town, and Virginia?” said my Aunt Gainor, with her great nose well up. “I would have put an end to their disloyal ways, one and all,” cried Mrs. Ferguson. “It is curious,” said Mr. Galloway, “that the crown should be so thwarted. What people have more reason to be contented?” “Contented!” said Miss Wynne. “Already they talk of taxes in which we are to have no voice. Contented! and not a ship dare trade with France. It amazes me that there is a man in the plantations to sit quiet under it.” “I am of your opinion, madam,” said Mr. Macpherson, “and I might go still further.” “They consider us as mere colonials, and we may not so much as have a bishop of our own. I would I had my way, sir.” “And what would you do, Mistress Wynne?” asked Mr. Chew. “I would say, ‘Mr. Attorney-General, give us the same liberty all the English have, to go and come on the free seas!’” “And if not?” said Montresor, smiling. “And if not,” she returned, “then--” and she touched the sword at his side. I wondered to see how resolute she looked. The captain smiled. “I hope you will not command a regiment, madam.” “Would to God I could!” “I should run,” he cried, laughing. And thus pleasantly ended a talk which was becoming bitter to many of this gay company. Destiny was already sharpening the sword we were soon to draw, and of those who met and laughed that day there were sons who were to be set against fathers, and brothers whom war was to find in hostile ranks. A young fellow of my age, the son of Mr. Macpherson, sat below us on the steps with the girls. He was to leave his young life on the bastion at Quebec, and, for myself, how little did I dream of what I should get out of the devil-pot of war which was beginning to simmer!