Pathos entered the parlour. He looked pale and he was struggling to breathe.  I glanced up from my reading as he thrust a piece of paper onto the table before me.

“What’s this then?”

“Sir, I think you’d better read this.”

I retrieved the piece of paper and began to read, calmly taking in what was before my eyes.

          I could scarce believe what I was reading.

          “Merciful heavens, Pathos, Fat Georgie is shutting up the Port of Boston.”

          “He’s also stopping the importation of arms and ammunition.”

          “This isn’t good. Worse things are coming.  I imagine the Sons of Liberty have heard about this?”

          “I don’t think so, Sir. This just came off the ship. There were three – one addressed to you, one to the governor of Massachusetts Bay, and one to the governor of New-Hampshire.”

          “Let us keep quiet about this. No need stirring up riots quite yet.”

          Pathos nodded and turned to leave, but paused at the door, and asked, almost apologetically;    

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering…” He was silent a moment.

“What?”

“This sort of thing happened in Scotland when you were a boy, didn’t it?”

             Memories.

“More or less. Then they marched in and killed everyone.”

“I see. You’re falling off that fence, aren’t you.”

“Seems I’m being pushed.”

“I see.”