These had, I learned afterwards, been organised all over the country as soon as the mobs of the wilder sort, described by David Elton, had driven away the lawful magistrates and judges who had held their offices under the King. These committees were made up of the most bitter partisans, and yet they were supposed to take the place of the King's courts of justice. The committees were approved by the Provincial Congress, and given absolute power over all matters civil as well as military. Thus, during the first weeks of the war, did the control of the entire country pass into the hands of the King's enemies, who were not slow to avail themselves of the fruits of even mob violence. The advantage gained through these committees was immense, as by their proclamation all neutrals and opponents of the revolution were designated rebels and enemies of authority and their country. It was before one of these committees that my fellow prisoner and I were called. It was plain from the beginning that everything was against us. The man who occupied the chair was not a farmer, I noticed. I concluded at once that he, and at least half of the committee of twelve, were residents of Boston. This fact I was quite sure would not increase our chances of acquittal. I had often heard my father express his confidence in the farmer people of the country, but his opinion of many Boston merchants, whose sense of honour had been dulled by years of trading in smuggled goods, was far from high. As I looked about the room I soon recognised that there were many other prisoners in addition to ourselves. I listened eagerly as one after another was put upon the stand and questioned. It soon appeared to me that most of the men were neutrals who, like David Elton, had been taken forcibly from their farms because they had refused to take up arms. A few boldly declared for the King; some promised to fight; many wavered. These latter, as a rule, were given a time limit, in which to decide finally, and were let go. The Loyalists were sent back to jail. David Elton, when called, stoutly refused to declare himself. He protested that he was a farmer, a man of peace, who had a large family to support, and he was determined to go back to his farm. He was handed over to a guard, then hurried away. Almost before the sound of his loud, shrill voice, raised high in protest, was out of my ears, I heard my own name sharply called by the court. When I went forward I noticed a look of deepened interest on the faces of both committee and spectators. My case was not like those of the other prisoners, who were practically all farmers of the community. As I faced the crowd of onlookers I noticed that two men suddenly and quietly left the room. The chairman of the committee followed them sharply with his eye, a few others turned to look, but the great majority steadily and critically scrutinised myself. The murmur in the building fell to silence.