Until the actual clash of arms, many believed that there might be found some ground for reconciliation; but England was blinded by jealous tradesmen and foolish politicians, hot blood in the colonies was all for separation. Events swept beyond the control of statesmen, and all were carried on to the vortex of revolution. In a speech from the throne George III asserted that “a most daring resistance to the laws,” encouraged by the other colonies, existed in Massachusetts. Again Camden spoke in defence of the colonies: “They say truly taxation and representation must go together. This wise people speak out. They do not ask you to repeal the laws as a favor; they claim it as a right.” But Parliament charged the Americans with “wishing to become independent” and as for any danger of revolt, determined “to crush the monster in its birth at any price or hazard.” They were to have a good run for their money. II In no long time the king’s men were marching out to Concord and Lexington; and with the actual shedding of blood, messengers, on the Sunday, rode out post-haste to rouse the country. “War is begun,” cried they at church doors. “War, war,” broke in upon hymn or parson’s prayer; and from pulpit and people rose the solemn response: “To arms: liberty or death.” The radicals were jubilant. Mr. Watson, of Plymouth, wrote to his friend Freeman congratulations upon the spirit of Sandwich, where Freeman had ordered the royal arms burned by the common hangman. “We are in high spirits,” wrote Watson, “and don’t think it is in the power of all Europe to subjugate us.” “The Lord of Hosts fights on the side of the Yankees,” averred he. “I glory in the name.” Yet Watson, an ardent patriot, in the course of a political quarrel of later years, was denounced to Jefferson as an old Tory, and was conveniently removed from office. But sober men were preparing to meet the cost of choosing between a man’s way and a child’s. Cape Cod, in particular, with a defenceless coast and the probable interruption of her fisheries and commerce, faced ruin; but, four-square, she stood for freedom. Immediately upon the news of fighting, two companies of militia from Barnstable and Yarmouth took the road, but returned on word that the royal troops were held in Boston. With them, that day, piping them out with fifes, were two boys who, when they were sent back, “borrowed” an old horse grazing by the roadside to give them a mount homeward. One boy became solicitor-general, the other a judge, and one day there chanced to be a case of prosecution for horse-thieving between them. “Davy,” whispered Judge Thacher, leaning from the bench, “this puts me in mind of the horse we stole that day in Barnstable.”