The Provincial Congress began to assemble, and cavalcades went out to meet the members as they approached the city on horseback. The Virginia delegation were so escorted into the city with triumph. The delegates were now assembling to declare the colony free. Independence was in the air. Terrible days were these to Mr. Calamity. As often as he heard the word "independence" on the street his cane would fly up, and after this spasm his snuffbox would come out of his pocket for refreshment. His snuffbox was silver, and on it in gold were the king's arms. He was a generous man despite his fears. He was particularly generous with his snuff. He liked to pass it around on the street, for he thereby displayed the king's arms on his snuffbox. When the Massachusetts delegates came, the city was filled with joy. But Samuel Adams was the soul of the movement for independence, and after his arrival independence was more and more discussed, which kept poor old Mr. Calamity's cane continually flying. But his feelings were terribly wounded daily by another event of common occurrence. As he passed the snuffbox to the Continentals he met, and showed the royal arms upon it, they turned away from him; they would not take snuff from the royal snuffbox. These were ominous times indeed. The province of Pennsylvania had decreed that no one should hold any office derived from the authority of the king. For a considerable period there was no government in Pennsylvania, no authority to punish a crime or collect a debt, but all things went on orderly, peacefully, and well. Old Mr. Calamity used to sit under the great elm tree at Shakamaxon in the long summer days and extend his silver snuffbox to people as they passed. The tree was full of singing birds; flowers bloomed by the way, and the river was bright; but to him the glory of the world had fled, for the people no longer would take snuff from the box with the royal arms. One day a lady passed who belonged to the days of the Penns and the Proprietors. "Madam Bond," said he, "comfort me." A patriot passed. The old man held out the snuffbox. The man hesitated and started back. "The royal arms will have to go," said the patriot. "Where from?" said the old man excited. "From everywhere. We are about to decree a new world." "They will never take these golden arms from that snuffbox. Sir, do you know that box was given to the Proprietor by Queen Charlotte herself?" "Well, the golden arms will have to come off it; they will have to come down everywhere. No--I thank you," he continued. "I can not ever take snuff again out of a snuffbox like that." Poor old Mr. Calamity turned to the lady. "What am I to do? Where am I to go? You do pity me, don't you?" A little girl passed near. He held out the box. The girl ran. The poor old man began to tremble. "I have trembling fits sometimes," said he. "Take a pinch of snuff with me; it will steady me. Take a pinch of snuff for Queen Charlotte's sake."