Presently, the talk veered over to politics. Notice of the Stamp Act being repealed had come to the Colony a month before, and had been made the occasion for an ardent demonstration, though, as a matter of fact, it had been a dead statute and unenforcible, in Maryland, from the moment of its passage. An act, once it is off the books, may be condemned in most disloyal language, and no offense be given, even if it were the pet measure of a sovereign. But George the Third was a stubborn monarch, and no sooner was the Stamp Act null and void, than a new hobby was his, and one that required no legislation to support it. And Samuel Chase, with a fine ignoring of the proprieties, soon hit upon it. "I understand," said he, "that recently an application for land, beyond the Allegheny Mountains, was refused by the Board of Trade, in London." Parkington was silent. Paca and Hammond both tried to change the conversation, but Chase would not have it. "The Board of Trade will find itself ignored," he said. "There will not be any applications. The people will simply settle, and, when they are settled, nothing but a royal army will move them off; and when a royal army invades this country, for such a purpose, it means war." With that, the rest broke in. Mr. Paca declared Chase spoke for himself alone, and Mr. Hammond that he was anticipating trouble; but Sir Edward Parkington surveyed Chase with a tolerant smile, and waved the matter aside. "Do not concern yourself to soften the views the gentleman has just expressed," he said. "They give me no offense. I am a loyal subject of his Majesty, but I think that the quicker we free America, the better for both America and England. You will leave us some day, as the child leaves the parent when it reaches maturity; the only question is, when that time comes. I take it, that Mr. Chase is not trying to be offensive, and, if no offense be intended, none is given." He arose. "If any of you are going in the direction of Reynolds' Tavern, I shall be glad for your company." Mr. Paca and Mr. Worthington attended him as far as Saint Anne's, where they parted; the two former going to their homes, on Prince George Street, while Parkington continued around the Circle to the tavern. "Send a mug of ale to my room," he said, to the man in the ordinary.... The fellow lighted the candles, put the drink on the table, and, after a moment's wait, withdrew. Parkington unbuckled his long rapier and flung it on the bed. Then he seated himself and took a sip of the ale, stretched out his slender legs, and laughed.