danced, and so declined with thanks.

But not long after, he requested a small loan from the merchant-prince,
and asked it as though it were his right, and so he got it. His manner was
in such opposition to the flatterers and those who crawled, and whined,
and begged, that Hancock was pleased with the man. Samuel Adams had
declined Hancock's social favors, and yet, in asking for a loan, showed
his friendliness.

Samuel Adams was a politician, and had long taken an active part in the
town meetings. In fact, to get a measure through, it was well to have
Samuel Adams at your side. He was clear-headed, astute, and knew the human
heart. Yet he talked but little, and the convivial ways of the small
politician were far from him; but in the fine art that can manage men and
never let them know they are managed he was a past-master. Tucked in his
sleeve, no doubt, was a degree of pride in his power, but the stoic
quality in his nature never allowed him to break into laughter when he
considered how he led men by the nose.

In Boston and its vicinity, Samuel Adams was not highly regarded, and
outside of Boston, at forty years of age, he was positively unknown. The
neighbors regarded him as a harmless fanatic, sane on most subjects, but
possessed of a buzzing bee in his bonnet to the effect that the Colonies
should be separated from their protector, England. Samuel Adams neglected
his business and kept up a fusillade of articles in the newspapers, on
various political subjects, and men who do this are regarded everywhere as
"queer." A professional newspaper-writer never takes his calling
seriously--it is business. He writes to please his employer, or if he owns
the paper himself, he still writes to please his employer, that is to say,
the public. Journalism, thy name is pander!