well have failed to recognize the truth that the bonds which united the colonies to Great Britain had been so rudely strained and stretched that their parting was a certainty, and one, too, not remote.

Adams accepted, with thankfulness, the opportunity thus given for returning to the practice of his profession. The stoppage of the courts had caused a considerable accumulation of business. His retainer by the town of Boston had greatly added to a reputation already reasonably well established, and he reaped his full share of the harvest of fees which came to the impoverished bar of the province. From the year 1766 onward, until public events again called him to the service of the province, his course was one of steady and increasing prosperity. In the spring of 1768 he removed his residence from Braintree to Boston. He had, in fact, quite outgrown the little rural arena in which he had fought his maiden battle. His business had grown to be large, and of an important class, and more and more, day by day, had centered in the capital of the province. He had already attained a position of leadership in Braintree, being a selectman of the town, and much consulted on every local question. His departure from the town, and the consequent resignation of his office, were sincerely regretted by his fellow citizens, and there were not lacking those who considered that he had foolishly surrendered the brightest political prospects. Of his life, during the year 1768, he gives this vivid picture in his diary:

"To what object are my views directed? What is the end and purpose of my studies, journeys, labors, of all kinds, of body and mind, of tongue and pen. Am I grasping at money, or scheming for power? Am I planning the illustration of my family, or the welfare of my country? These are great questions. In truth, I am tossed about so much, from post to pillar, that I have not leisure and tranquility enough to consider distinctly my own views, objects, and feelings.

I am certain, howfame, fortune, power, What plan of read

ever, that the course I pursue will neither lead me to nor to the service of my friends, clients, or country. ing, reflection, or business can be pursued by a man who is now at Pownalborough, then at Martha's Vineyard, next at Boston, then at Taunton, presently at Barnstable, then at Concord, now at Salem, then at Cambridge, and afterwards at Worcester? Now at sessions, then at pleas, now in admiralty, now at supreme court, then in the gallery of the House? What a dissipation must this be! Is it possible to pursue a regular course of thinking in this desultory life? By no means. It is a life of "here and everywhere; "-to use the expression that is applied to Othello by Desdemona's father, a rambling, roaming, vagrant, vagabond life; a wandering life. At Mein's book store, at Bowe's shop, at Dana's house, at Fitch's, Otis' office, and the clerk's office, in the court chamber, in the gallery, at my own fire, I am thinking on the same plan.

Scarcely was Mr. Adams settled in Boston, before came overtures from

the government party to gain his service, if not his sympathy. Mr. Jonathan Sewall still continued in warm and intimate friendship with him, though the questions of the past few years had drifted them, politically, very far apart. Coming to his house one day, Sewall announced his intention of remaining to dine with him, and, after the meal was over, first secured the privacy of their conversation, then conveyed to him the desire of Governor Bernard, that he should accept the vacant post of advocategeneral in the court of admiralty. The offer was accompanied by an intimation that his political opinions had been taken into account, and that his acceptance of the proffered position would not be regarded as in any sense a compromise of them. The offer was a very flattering one; its acceptance promised honor and emolument, yet he declined it. His reasons; and his manner of so doing are stated in his autobiography: "My answer to Mr. Sewall was very prompt: That I was sensible of the honor done me by the Governor; but must be excused from accepting his offer. Mr. Sewall enquired, Why; what was my objection? I answered that he knew very well my political principles, the system I had adopted, and the connections and friendships I had formed in consequence of them. He also knew that the British government, including the king, his ministers, and parliament, apparently supported by a great majority of the nation, were persevering in a system wholly inconsistent with all my ideas of right, justice, and policy, and therefore I could not place myself in a situation in which my duty and my inclination would be so much at variance. To this Mr. Sewall returned that he was instructed by the Governor to say that he knew my political sentiments very well, but they should be no objection to him. I should be at full liberty to entertain my own opinions, which he did not wish to influence by this office. He had offered it to me merely because he believed I was best qualified for it, and because he relied on my integrity. I replied that this was going as far in the generosity and liberality of his sentiments as the Governor could go, or as I could desire, if I could accept the office; but that I knew it would lay me under restraints and obligations that I could not submit to, and, therefore, I could not, in honor or conscience, accept it. Mr. Sewall paused, and then, resuming the subject, asked: 'Why are you so quick and sudden in your determination? You had better take it under consideration, and give me your answer at some future day.' I told him my answer had been ready because my mind was clear and my determination decided and unalterable; that my advice would be that Mr. Fitch should be appointed, to whose views the office would be perfectly agreeable. Mr. Sewall said he should certainly give me time to think of it. I said that time would produce no change, and he had better make his report immediately. We parted, and about three weeks afterwards he came to me again, and hoped I had thought more favorably on the subject; that the Governor had sent for him, and told him the public

business suffered, and the office must be filled. I told him my judgment, and inclination, and determination were unalterably fixed, and that I had hoped Mr. Fitch would be appointed before that time. Mr. Fitch, however, never was appointed. He acted for the crown by the appointment of the judge, from day to day, but had never any commission from the crown, or appointment of the Governor."

The relinquishment of so fair a chance of advancement is an illustration of the strict moral consistency of Mr. Adams, and, at the same time, proves beyond question, that he saw in the temporary tranquility of the province, only a lull in the storm; that he looked for a renewal of the active discontent which the repeal of the stamp act had, for the time, stilled; and saw how inevitably would he be compelled either to surrender the office offered him, or to give to the king only a lip service, his heart going with the cause of the king's discontented, perhaps even rebellious, subjects. This fortunate prevision kept him free from entanglements, and free from even the suspicion of having compromised his principles for place and money, and thus preserved him for the highest service of his province in the doubtful struggle which was, in fact, very near at hand.

Almost immediately after Mr. Adams' settlement in Boston, he set out to attend court at Worcester, Springfield, and some other towns throughout the province, and during his absence occurred three of the most important events preliminary to the revolution, any one of which would have sufficiently vindicated the wisdom of his refusal to accept office at the hands of the crown. These were the holding of the Boston convention, the arrival of the royal commissioners of customs, and the landing of the British soldiers, ostensibly a protective garrison, in reality an army of occupation. Governor Bernard had dissolved the general court, and refused to call a new session of the Legislature; the troops were quartered within the town, and the cost of their maintenance was to be enforced as a charge against the people of Boston. The arrival of the army was the first cast of the administration in the new game for the subduing of the recalcitrant colony. Legislative imposition had been contemptuously cast off; it was evident that the dread of British power, as an abstraction, had not sufficient weight to insure respect for the laws of parliament and the policy of ministries; that power, must be materialized;-and so there came the gleam of white sails in the offing, guns frowned along the grim flanks of a fleet not from, but toward, the little city, and there marched through its streets, seven hundred redcoated incarnations of royal power, while the inhabitants were told that more were yet to follow. In this predicament-the general court dissolved, the Governor an enemy, and the chief justice little less-the town of Boston held a public meeting on the 12th and 13th of September, at which it was resolved that the king, in time of peace, had no right to station troops within the colony, without an expressed and official request so to do. On the

14th, a circular was addressed to the selectmen of other towns within the province, requesting them to send delegates to a convention to be held in Boston on the 22nd. The reasons assigned for holding this convention were those obviously suggested by the presence of the army, and, very unwisely, the evidently false one of "prospect of a war with France." This ostrichlike effort to conceal the aim of the selectmen, by hiding the head, while the body remained exposed, laid a very just, dignified and respectable movement open to unmerited contempt, and very considerably detracted from its weight. In spite, however, of this mistake, and of the short notice given, more than one hundred towns were represented in the convention. The proceedings were mainly in the nature of protests against the military occupation and the billeting act; the convention expressly disavowed the possession of legislative powers, and its importance was principally in the indication it gave of a determination on the part of the people to protect their rights to extremities.

The arrival of the soldiers aroused the people to fury; they refused to provide for the accommodation of the troops, and demanded that they be quartered at the castle, without the city proper; this request might have been granted, but for the meeting of the convention, which the Governor and General Gage chose to regard as so nearly approaching an act of treason, as to absolve them from considering the feelings of the people. Hence, Faneuil hall and other public buildings were converted into barracks, pending an effort to enforce the billeting act, and, this quite failing, it eventually became necessary to hire houses for the purpose. Even this was only accomplished with great difficulty, and at exorbitant cost.

There were not lacking persons ready enough to inflame the people against the soldiers; the latter could not go abroad singly or in small parties without being taunted, insulted, and sometimes assailed by mobs of citizens. "of the baser sort," and so the rancor and hatred of the people were returned most heartily by the troops. Finally, on the night of the 5th of March, 1770, a crowd larger than usual being upon the streets, a sentry, on guard, was insulted by a passer-by; a brawl ensued; a corporal's guard came to the assistance of the imperiled soldier, and, gathering about him, faced the citizens, not more than twenty-five or thirty of whom were gathered. The latter proceeded from abuse to violence, hurling clubs, stones, and other missiles, at the red-coats, until the position of the latter became really perilous; then the guard-some say of their own accord, and others under the orders of their commander, Captain Preston-fired upon the crowd, killing five of the bystanders, more or less active participants in the riot. The people were aroused to the point of madness by this occurrence. The British commander drew in his force to a defensible part of the town, planted cannon to sweep the streets, and only by these precautions. were prevented general riot and fearful bloodshed, which seemed inevitable.

CHAPTER V.

DEFENSE OF THE SOLDIERS-ELECTED TO THE ASSEMBLY-CONTROVERSY WITH BOWDOIN.

WHEN

HEN had passed the first excitement aroused by the "Boston massacre," came the demand for the trial of the captain and soldiers who had been engaged in the affair. All surrendered themselves, and were promptly indicted for murder. At this point began Adams' connection with the case, best told in the language of his autobiography. "The next morning, I think it was, sitting in my office near the steps of the townhouse stairs, Mr. Forrest came in, who was then called the 'Irish infant.' I had some acquaintance with him. With tears streaming from his eyes, he said, 'I am come with a very solemn message from a very unfortunate man,--Captain Preston,-in prison. He wishes for counsel, and can get none. I have waited on Mr. Quincy, who says he will engage if you will give him your assistance; without it, he positively will not. Even Mr. Auchmuty declines, unless you will engage.' I had no hesitation in answering that counsel ought to be the very last thing that an accused person should want, in a free country; that the bar ought, in my opinion, to be independent and impartial, at all times and in every circumstance, and that persons whose lives were at stake ought to have the counsel they preferred. But he must be sensible this would be as important a cause as was ever tried in any court or country of the world, and that every lawyer must hold himself responsible, not only to his country, but to the highest and most infallible of all tribunals, for the part he should act. He must, therefore, expect from me no art or address, no sophistry or prevarication, in such a cause, nor anything more than fact, evidence, and law would justify. 'Captain Preston,' he said, 'requested and desired no more; and that he had such an opinion, from all he had heard from all parties, of me, that he could cheerfully trust his life with me, upon those principles. And,' said Forrest, as God Almighty is my judge, I believe him an innocent, man.' I replied: That must be ascertained by his trial, and, if he believes he can