THE WRITS OF ASSISTANCE.
SAM ADAMS at twenty-eight, with a wife, and his inheritance now in his hands through the death of his father, had not yet begun to play his proper part before the world. The eyes of men were beginning to turn toward him, indeed, as a man with a head to manage a political snarl, and a pen to express thoughts that could instruct and kindle. He was still, however, the somewhat shiftless manager of the Purchase Street malt-house, and the town censors no doubt said it would be vastly better for him to mind his private business rather than dabble as he did in public matters. That he was a good student and thinker was shown by his contributions to the "Public Advertiser."
He was devoted also to the discussions of the debating-clubs. As yet the Revolution seemed far off. The people of Massachusetts, it has been said, were never in a more easy situation than at the close of the war with France in