I 
 
 if 
 
SMritinfffi of jBat^anicl ^atDtl)orne. 
 
 In the RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES. Each single 
 
 number, i6mo, paper, 15 cents, 7iet. 
 Little Daffydowndilly, and Other Stories. No. 29. 
 Biographical Stories. No. 10. 
 
 (29 and 10 also in i vol., linen, 40 cents, net^ 
 Grandfather's Chair. (True Stories from New England His. 
 
 tory.; 1620-1803. Illustrated. Nos. 7, 8, 9. Also in one vol., 
 
 linen, 50 cents, tiet. 
 
 A Wonder-Book. Nos. 17, 18. Also in i vol., linen, 40 cents, net. 
 Tanglewood Tales. Nos. 22, 23. Also in i vol., linen, 40 cents, 
 
 7iet, 
 Tales of the White Hills, and Sketches. No. 40. 
 The Old Manse and a Few Mosses. No. 69. 
 
 (40 and 69 also in i vol., linen, 40 cents, net.) 
 Twice-Told Tales. No. 82. (Quadruple No.) Crown Svo, paper, 
 
 50 cents, 7tet ; linen, 60 cents, net. 
 The House of the Seven Gables. No. 91. (Quadruple No.) 
 
 Crown Svo, paper, 50 cents, ttet ; linen, 60 cents, net. 
 
 In the MODERN CLASSICS. School Edition. Each vol. 32mo, 
 
 cloth, 40 cents, net. 
 Tales of the White Hills and Legends of New England. 
 
 Vol. 28. 
 A Virtuoso's Collection, and Other Tales. Vol. 29. 
 
 In the RIVERSIDE SCHOOL LIBRARY. Each vol. crown 
 8vo, half leather, 70 cents, net. 
 
 The Wonder-Book, and Tanglewood Tales. 
 The House of the Seven Gables. 
 Grandfather's Chair, and Biographical Stories. 
 
 COMPLETE WORKS. New Riverside Edition. With an original 
 etching in each volume, and a Portrait. With bibliographical 
 notes by George P. Lathrop. Complete in 13 volumes. Crown 
 Svo, each, ^2.00 ; the set, 1^26.00. 
 
 1. Twice-Told Tales. 10. French and Italian Note- 
 
 2. Mosses from an Old Manse. Books. 
 
 3. The House of the Seven Ga- 11. Septimius Felton, The DolH- 
 
 bles, and The Snow-Image. ber Romance, Fanshawe, 
 
 4. A Wonder-Book, Tangle- Alice Doane"s Appeal, and, 
 
 wood Tales, and Grandfa- in an Appendix, The An- 
 
 ther's Chair. cestral Footstep. 
 
 5. The Scarlet Letter, and The 12. Biographical Sketches. Other 
 
 Blithedale Romance. Tales and Essays, Index. 
 
 6. The Marble Faun. 13. Dr. Grimshawe's Secret, Ed- 
 
 7. 8. Our Old Home and Eng- ited, with Preface and 
 
 lish Note-Books. Notes, by Julian Haw- 
 
 9. American Note-Books. thorne. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 Boston, New York, and Chicago. 
 
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. are the only authorized publishers 
 of the works of Longfellow, Whittiee, Lowell, Holmes, Emes- 
 SON, Thoreau, onrf Hawthorne. All editions which lack the 
 imprint or authorization of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. are issued 
 without the consent and contrary to t/ie wishes of the authors or 
 their heirs. 
 
 Copyright, 1850, 
 By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Copyright, 1878, 
 Br ROSE HAWTHORNE LATHROP. 
 
 Copyright, 1896, 
 By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton and Company. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 A Sketch of the Life of Nathaniel Hawthorne . 
 
 Author's Preface 
 
 I. Grandfather and the Children and the Chair 
 II. The Puritans and the Lady Arbella . 
 
 m. A Rainy Day 
 
 IV. Troublous Times .... 
 V. The Government of New England 
 VI. The Pine-Tree Shillings 
 VII. The Quakers and the Indians . 
 Vin. The Indian Bible .... 
 IX. England and New England 
 X. The Sunken Treasure . 
 XL What the Chair had known . 
 
 PASS 
 V 
 
 XXV 
 
 1 
 5 
 15 
 18 
 24 
 29 
 35 
 41 
 48 
 54 
 62 
 Appendix. Extracts from the Life of John Eliot . 66 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. The Chair in the Firelight 71 
 
 II. The Salem Witches 74 
 
 III. The Old-Fashioned School 80 
 
 IV. Cotton Mather 86 
 
 V. The Rejected Blessing 93 
 
 VI. Pomps and Vanities 104 
 
 VII. The Provincial Muster 109 
 
 VIII. The Old French War and the Acadl^n Exiles . 118 
 
 IX. The End of the War 130 
 
 X. Thomas Hutchinson 136 
 
 Appendix. Account of the Deportation of the Aca- 
 
 dians 142 
 
 PART III. 
 
 L a New Year's Day o . 149 
 
 n. The Stamp Act 152 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 ni. The Hutchinson Mob 158 
 
 IV. The British Troops in Boston .... 168 
 
 V. The Boston Massacre 174 
 
 VI. A Collection of Portraits 182 
 
 VII. The Tea-Party and Lexington . . . .189 
 
 YIII. The Siege of Boston 195 
 
 IX. The Tory's Farewell 202 
 
 X. The War for Independence 209 
 
 XI. Grandfather's Dream 217 
 
 Appendix. A Letter from Governor Hutchinson . 223 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 Benjamin West 23-4 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton 247 
 
 Samuel Johnson ........ 256 
 
 Oliver Cromwell 268 
 
 BENJAivnN Franklin 279 
 
 Queen Christina 293 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Portrait of Hawthorne Frontispiece 
 
 King's Chapel Burying-Ground, Boston . . . Facing 14 
 Early View of Harvard College .... "26 
 
 A Pine-Tree Shilling . 34 
 
 Facsimile of Title-Page of Eliot's Indian Bible " 44 
 Roger Williams' House, Salem .... Facing 76 
 
 Province House, Boston "110 
 
 Map of Acadia 123 
 
 Quebec, 1732 Facing 130 
 
 Portrait of Governor Shirley .... " 150 
 
 Liberty Tree, Boston Facing 156 
 
 The Royal Stamp 157 
 
 Faneuil Hall, Boston Facing 184 
 
 Craigle House, CAaLBRiOQE " 208 
 
 Benjamin Franklin Facing 280 
 
 (Portrait used in Fiske's History and as frontispiece to Auto- 
 biography R. S. L.) 
 
A SKETCH OF THE 
 LIFE OF NATHANIEL HAWTHOENE. 
 
 EARLY DAYS. 
 
 The old town of Salem, in Massachusetts, was once a 
 famous seaport, and ships sailed out of its harbor to the 
 ends of the world. In the East Indies so many merchant 
 vessels bore the word " Salem " on the stern that people there 
 supposed that to be the name of some powerful country, and 
 '' Mass.," which was sometimes added, to be the name of a 
 village in Salem. As Boston and New York grew more 
 important, they drew away trade from the smaller towns, 
 and Salem became less busy. It still has wharves, and 
 large, roomy houses where its rich merchants lived, and 
 shows in many streets the signs of its old prosperity ; but 
 one living in Salem is constantly reminded how famous the 
 old town once was, rather than how busy it now is. 
 
 It is doubtful if any town in America has been more 
 affectionately set forth in literature than the old Salem of the 
 middle of this century. A delightful volume of sketches en- 
 titled Old Salem, by " Eleanor Putnam," keeps its fragrance, 
 and other writers have loved to dwell upon its quaint flavor ; 
 one, in particular, has preserved its charm in a multitude of 
 sketches, like Main Street, Little Annie's Ramble, A Rill 
 from the Town Pump ; in many of his stories also, but most 
 of all in the background of The House of the Seven Gables, 
 where Hepzibah Pyncheon in her old shop recalls with the 
 precision of fact and the light of rosy imagination more 
 than one actual old Salem reduced gentlewoman. 
 
vi A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 All this is intelligible enough, for in an old house in Union 
 Street, in Salem, was born, July 4, 1804, the author of 
 these sketches and stories, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and in 
 one near by, in Herbert Street, he spent his boyhood. 
 The town had already begun to decline when he was a 
 boy there ; and as he walked about the streets and listened 
 to the talk of people, he seemed always to be in the com- 
 pany of old men, hearing about old times, and watching 
 the signs of decay. There were strange stories of what had 
 happened in former days, especially since Salem was the 
 place where, more than a hundred years before, there had 
 been a terrible outbreak of superstition ; men and women 
 had been charged with witchcraft, and had been put to 
 death for it. One of Hawthorne's own ancestors had been 
 a judge who had condemned innocent people to death be- 
 cause he believed them guilty of witchcraft. A visitor to 
 Salem court house is shown now a bottle containing some 
 large coarse pins, such as were made a couple of hundred 
 years ago, and is told that these pins were found sticking into 
 children's bodies, and some old woman was accused of being 
 a witch and sticking them in, though no one saw her do it. 
 It seems foolish enough to us who look at the old bottle of 
 pins to-day, and hear the steam trains and electric cars go 
 whizzing by outside, but it was a very serious matter in the 
 Salem of witchcraft times. 
 
 Hawthorne was the second in a family of three children. 
 Elizabeth was two years older and Louisa four years 
 younger. His father was a sea-captain, as was also his 
 grandfather, who was a privateersman in the Revolutionary 
 War. Nathaniel was four years old when his father died, 
 but his mother lived until he was forty-six years old ; his 
 elder sister outlived him, his younger died two years after 
 their mother. Whatever character Nathaniel Hawthorne 
 received from bJs father, came, therefore, by inheritance, 
 and not much from direct influence ; his mother had more 
 to do with shaping his life. She was but twenty-eight years 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. vii 
 
 old when her husband died, but in those days, more than 
 now, a widow in New England was likely to lead a secluded 
 life, and Madam Hawthorne was almost a hermit the rest 
 of her days. She was a woman of fine mind, and very 
 striking in appearance, looking, as has been said, " as if she 
 had walked out of an old picture, with her antique costume, 
 and a face of lovely sensibility and great brightness." She 
 was left with very little property, so that she could not give 
 and receive much company, even if she had not been as 
 reserved as she was. Nathaniel's elder sister, Elizabeth, 
 writing after his death, to his daughter, says : — 
 
 " I remember, that one morning, my mother called my 
 brother into her room, next to the one where we slept, and 
 told him that his father was dead. He left very little prop- 
 erty, and my grandfather Manning [Madam Hawthorne's 
 father], took us home. All through our childhood we were 
 indulged in all convenient ways, and were under very little 
 control, except that of circumstances. There were aunts 
 and uncles, and they were all as fond of your father, and 
 as careful of his welfare, as if he had been their own child. 
 He was both beautiful and bright, and, perhaps his training 
 was as good as any other could have been. We always had 
 plenty of books. He never wanted money, except to spend ; 
 and once, in the country, where there were no shops, he re- 
 fused to take some that was offered to him, because he could 
 not spend it immediately. Another time, old Mr. Forrester 
 offered him a five-dollar bill, which he also refused ; which 
 was uncivil, for Mr. Forrester always noticed him very 
 kindly when he met him." 
 
 When Hawthorne was a boy of fourteen, he went with 
 his mother and sisters to live for a year in a lonely place in 
 Maine. He spent much of his time by himself in the open 
 air. In summer he took his rod or his gun and roamed for 
 hours through the woods. On winter nights he would skate 
 by moonlight, all alone, upon the ice of Sebago Pond, and 
 sometimes rest till morning by a great camp-fire which he 
 
Vlii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 built before a log-cabin. He led a strange, solitary life, and 
 formed habits of being by himself which he never shook 
 off ; but he learned also to observe the world about him, and 
 his eye and ear were trained like those of an Indian. He, 
 himself, says : — 
 
 "I am quite wild, and would, I doubt not, have willingly 
 run wild till this time, fishing all day long, or shooting with 
 an old fowling-piece ; but reading a good deal, too, on the 
 rainy days, especially in Shakespeare and The Fllgrim's 
 Frogress, and any poetry or light books within my reach. 
 Those were delightful days; for that part of the country 
 was wild then, with only scattered clearings, and nine 
 tenths of it primeval woods. But, by and by, my good 
 mother began to think it was necessary for her boy to do 
 something else ; so I was sent back to Salem, where a jDri- 
 vate instructor fitted me for college. I was educated, as the 
 phrase is, at Bowdoin College. I was an idle student, 
 negligent of college rules and the Procrustean details of 
 academic life, rather choosing to nurse my own fancies than 
 to dig into Greek roots and be numbered among the learned 
 Thebans." 
 
 Bowdoin College is at Brunswick, in Maine, and one of 
 Hawtliorne's classmates there was the poet Longfellow, 
 whose father lived in Portland. Another of his college 
 friends was Franklin Pierce, who afterward was President 
 of the United States, and who was able, when in that office, 
 to be of material service to his fellow-collegian. Haw- 
 thorne had already begun to show that he was to be a writer. 
 '• While we were lads together at a country college," he wrote 
 once to his friend, Horatio Bridge, an officer in the navy, 
 " gathering blueberries in study hours, under those tall aca- 
 demic pines ; or watching the great logs, as they tumbled 
 along the current of the Androscoggin ; or shooting pigeons 
 and gray squirrels in the woods ; or bat-fowling in the sum- 
 mer twilight ; or catching trout in that shadowy little 
 stream, which, I sujipose, is still wandering riverward 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. ix 
 
 through the forest, though you and I will never cast a line 
 in it again, — two idle lads, in short (as we need not fear 
 to acknowledge now), doing a hundred things that the 
 faculty never heard of, or else it had been the worse for 
 us, — still it was your prognostic of your friend's destiny 
 that he was to be a writer of fiction." 
 
 II. 
 
 FIRST WRITINGS. 
 
 After he was graduated, Hawthorne went back to Salem 
 and lived there, with only occasional excursions into the 
 country, until 1838. " It was my fortune or misfortune," 
 he once wrote in a brief sketch of himself, " just as you 
 please, to have some slender means of supporting myself, 
 and so, on leaving college in 1825, instead of immediately 
 studying a profession, I sat myself down to consider what 
 pursuit in life I was best fit for. My mother had now 
 returned, and taken up her abode in her deceased father's 
 house, a tall, ugly, old grayish building (it is now the resi- 
 dence of half a dozen Irish families), in which I had a 
 room. And year after year I kept considering what I was 
 fit for, and time and my destiny decided that I was to be 
 the writer that I am. I had always a natural tendency (it 
 appears to have been on the paternal side) toward seclu- 
 sion ; and this I now indulged to the utmost, so, that for 
 months together, I scarcely held human intercourse outside 
 of my own family ; seldom going out except at twilight, or 
 only to take the nearest way to the most convenient solitude, 
 which was oftenest the sea shore, — the rocks and beaches 
 in that vicinity being as fine as any in New England. Once 
 a year, or thereabouts, I used to make an excursion of a 
 few weeks, in which I enjoyed as much of life as other 
 people do in the whole year's round. Having spent so much 
 of my boyhood and youth away from my native place, I 
 had very few acquaintances in Salem, and during the nine 
 
X A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 or ten years that I spent there in this solitary way, I doubt 
 whether so much as twenty people in the town were aware 
 of my existence. Meanwhile, strange as it may seem, I 
 had lived a very tolerable life, always seemed cheerful, and 
 enjoyed the very best bodily health. I had read endlessly 
 all sorts of good and good-for-nothing books, and, in the 
 dearth of other employment, had early begun to scribble 
 sketches and stories, most of which I burned. Some, how- 
 ever, got into the magazines and annuals ; but being anony- 
 mous, or under different signatures, they did not soon have 
 the effect of concentrating any attention upon the author." 
 Here and there, indeed, a reader was found who wondered 
 at the strange beauty of his tales, but most passed them by. 
 At length, through the help of his old friend Bridge, some 
 of the stories were collected and published in a volume 
 called Twice Told Tales. It is pleasant to notice that 
 Longfellow was one of the first to welcome the book and ta 
 give it hearty praise in an article in the North American 
 Review. Hawthorne wrote also at this time some short 
 sketches of biography and history. 
 
 While leading this quiet, uneventful life, he began to keep 
 note-books, in which he recorded what he saw on his walks, 
 what he heard other people say, and thoughts and fancies 
 which came to him through the day and night. He did not 
 make these note-books for publication ; they held the rough 
 material out of which he made books and stories, but they 
 had also much that never reappeared in his own writings. 
 He jotted down what he said for his own use and pleasure, 
 and thus sometimes he did not make complete sentences. 
 He was like an artist who takes his pencil and draws a few 
 lines, by which to remember something which he sees, and 
 afterwards paints a full and careful picture from such notes. 
 The artist's studies are very interesting to all who like to 
 see how a picture grows, and often the sketch itself is very 
 beautiful, for one who paints well can scarcely help putting 
 beauty into his simplest outlines ; then, by drawing con- 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, xi 
 
 stantly, he acquires the power of putting clown what he sees 
 in few but vivid lines. After Hawthorne's death, selections 
 from his Note-Books were published. One may learn by 
 them how to write carefully, just as one may learn to draw 
 by studying an artist's sketches. 
 
 These thirteen years meant much to Hawthorne. He 
 was learning to write ; he was steadily using the power 
 which had been given him, and it was growing stronger 
 every year. Yet they were lonely and often discouraging 
 years to him. He could earn but little by his pen. Very 
 few people seemed to care for what he did, and he loved 
 his own work so well that he longed to have others care for 
 it and for him. He went back afterward to the chamber 
 where he had read and written and waited, and as he sat in 
 it again he took out his note-book, and wrote : " If ever I 
 should have a biographer he ought to make great mention 
 of this chamber in my memoirs, because so much of my 
 lonely youth was wasted here, and here my mind and 
 character were formed; and here I have been glad and 
 hopeful, and here I have been despondent. And here I 
 sat a long, long time, waiting patiently for the world to 
 know me, and sometimes wondering why it did not know me 
 sooner, or whether it would ever know me at all, — at least, 
 till I were in my grave. . . . By and by the world found 
 me out in my lonely chamber, and called me forth." 
 
 His son Julian describes Hawthorne as the handsomest 
 young man of his day in that part of the world. " Such," 
 he says, " is the report of those who knew him ; and there is 
 a miniature of him, taken some years later [later, that is, 
 than his college days], which bears out the report. He was 
 five feet, ten and a half inches in height, broad-shouldered, 
 but of a light athletic build, not weighing more than one 
 hundred and fifty pounds. His limbs were beautifully 
 formed, and the moulding of his neck and throat was as fine 
 as anything in antique sculpture. His hair, which had a 
 long, curving wave in it, approached blackness in color ; his 
 
xii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 head was large and grandly developed ; his eyebrows were 
 dark and heavy, with a sujDerb arch and space beneath. 
 His nose was straight, but the contour of his chin was 
 Roman. He never wore a beard, and was witliout a mous- 
 tache until his fifty-fifth year. His eyes were large, dark- 
 blue, brilliant, and full of varied expression. Bayard Taylor 
 used to say that they were the only eyes he had ever known 
 flash fire. Charles Reade, in a letter written in 1876, de- 
 clared that he had never before seen such eyes as Haw- 
 thorne's, in a human head. When he went to London, per- 
 sons whose recollections reached back through a generation 
 or so used to compare his glance with that of Robert Burns. 
 While he was yet in college, an old gypsy woman, meeting 
 him suddenly in a woodland path, gazed at him and asked, 
 * Are you a man or an angel ? ' His complexion was 
 delicate and transparent, rather dark than light, with a 
 ruddy tinge in the cheeks. The skin of his face was always 
 very sensitive, and a cold raw wind caused him actual pain. 
 His hands were large and muscular, the palm broad, with a 
 full curve of the outer margin ; the fingers smooth, but 
 neither square nor pointed ; the thumb long and powerful. 
 His feet were slender and sinewy, and he had a long elastic 
 gait, accompanied by a certain sidewise swinging of the 
 shoulders. He was a tireless walker, and of great bodily 
 activity ; up to the time he was forty years old, he could 
 clear a height of five feet at a standing jump. His voice, 
 which was low and deep in ordinary conversation, had 
 astounding volume when he chose to give full vent to it ; 
 with such a voice, and such eyes and presence, he might 
 have quelled a crew of mutinous privateersmen at least as 
 effectively as Bold Daniel, his grandfather : it was not a 
 bellow, but had the searching and electrifying quality of the 
 blast of a trumpet." 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHOJRNE. xiii 
 
 III. 
 HAWTHORNE AND SOPHIA PEABODY. 
 
 There was a neighboring family to the Hawthornes in 
 Balem, that of Dr. Nathaniel Peabody, whose children were 
 playmates of the Hawthornes before Captain Hawthorne's 
 death. After the Hawthornes returned from Lake Sebago, 
 the Peabodys still lived in the same neighborhood, but the 
 young people scarcely saw each other, so secluded were the 
 Hawthornes. Indeed the girls in the Peabody family were 
 readinof Nathaniel Hawthorne's tales without knowing: 
 they were written by the handsome, silent young man whom 
 they saw occasionally. There were three of these girls. The 
 eldest, Elizabeth Palmer Peabody, lived to a great age un- 
 married, but well known as having done more than any per- 
 son to introduce the kindergarten in America ; the second, 
 Mary, married Horace Mann, whose statue stands in front of 
 the State House in Boston because he was the chief organ- 
 izer of public schools in Massachusetts ; the third daughter, 
 Sophia, was a delicate girl, very much of an invalid, who 
 was the joy of the household for her lovely spirit, and early 
 showed such a love of art that she was trained to draw and 
 paint, so that when Hawthorne was trying his hand at 
 writing, she was making sketches, and after the sisters had 
 found out that their young neighbor was an author, Sophia 
 made a drawing illustrating his story of The Gentle Boy. 
 The acquaintance between the young people of the two 
 families had just been renewed, and one day Sophia Peabody 
 showed him the picture, saying, 
 
 " I want to know if this looks like your Ibrahim ? " He 
 sat down and looked at it, and then looked up and said, 
 '* He will never look otherwise to me." 
 
 From this time the acquaintance rapidly passed into 
 ardent love, and it was not long before the two young peo- 
 ple, — Sophia was seven years the younger, — were en- 
 gaged to be married. Apparently this engagement spurred 
 
xiv A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 Hawthorne to greater activity. He did not abandon his 
 writing, but he began to go about more among men, and 
 seeking further means of support he obtained a post in the 
 Boston custom-house, which was given him by the historian 
 George Bancroft, who was then collector of the port. It 
 was at this time that he wrote The Whole History of 
 Grandfather's Chair, which was originally published in 
 three separate parts. He had a plan for having Sophia 
 Peabody make illustrations for it, and pointed out the oppor- 
 tunity there was for sketches in Master Cheever's School, 
 the Acadians, the Earl of Loudoun's military council in 
 Boston, and Liberty Tree, but nothing seems to have come 
 of the plan. 
 
 The long seclusion in which Hawthorne had brooded in 
 Salem had made him, especially after Sophia Peabody had 
 come into his life, eager to be amongst men and to get to 
 work at something with his hands. " I want to have some- 
 thing to do with this material world," he said to Sophia's 
 sister, Elizabeth, and when, after two years in the Boston 
 custom-house, he was turned out of office by the coming in 
 of a new political administration, he looked about for fur- 
 ther work of a kind that should bring him close to the soil 
 and the people. Just at this time there was started in West 
 Roxbury, Massachusetts, an experiment which greatly inter- 
 ested Hawthorne and his friends. A number of men and 
 women, chiefly persons of intellectual ability, were restless 
 under what they thought was a very unsatisfactory condi- 
 tion of society, and they were resolved to form a little com- 
 munity of their own, to show the world how it was possible 
 for people to live rationally, to support themselves by work 
 with their hands, and yet have leisure for intellectual occu- 
 pation. It was to be a true community where all should 
 share each other's goods, whether those goods were property 
 or mind. 
 
 They called the place they established Brook Farm, and 
 thither Hawthorne went after he was turned out of the 
 
 1 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xv 
 
 justom-house, and cast in his lot with the eager little com- 
 munity. Apparently, he planned to try the experiment by 
 himself, and if it worked well, he could then marry and 
 take his wife there to live with him. Here is a letter which 
 he wrote to his sister Louisa shortly after he joined Brook 
 Farm. 
 
 "Brook Farm, West Koxbury, May 3, 1841. 
 
 "As the weather precludes all possibility of ploughing, 
 hoeing, sowing, and other such operations, I bethink me that 
 you may have no objections to hear something of my where- 
 about and whatabout. You are to know, then, that I took 
 up my abode liere on the 12th ultimo, in the midst of a 
 snow-storm, which kept us idle for a day or two. At the 
 first glimpse of fair weather, Mr. Ripley summoned us into 
 the cow-yard, and introduced me to an instrument with four 
 prongs, commonly entitled a dung-fork. With this tool I 
 have already assisted to load twenty or thirty carts of ma- 
 nure, and shall take part in loading nearly three hundred 
 more. Besides, I have planted potatoes and peas, cut straw 
 and hay for the cattle, and done various other mighty works. 
 This very morning I milked three cows, and I milk two or 
 three every night and morning. The weather has been so 
 unfavorable that we have worked comparatively little in the 
 fields ; but, nevertheless, I have gained strength wonder 
 fully, — grown quite a giant, in fact, — and can do a day's 
 work without the slightest inconvenience. In short, I am 
 transformed into a complete farmer. 
 
 " This is one of the most beautiful places I ever saw in 
 my life, and as secluded as if it were a hundred miles from 
 any city or village. There are woods in which we can 
 ramble all day without meeting anybody or scarcely seeing 
 a house. Our house stands apart from the main road, so 
 that we are not troubled even with passengers looking at us. 
 Once in a while we have a transcendental visitor, such as 
 Mr. Alcott ; but generally we pass whole days without see- 
 
xvi A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 ing a single face, save those of the brethren. The whole 
 fraternity eat together ; and such a delectable way of life 
 has never been seen on earth since the days of the early 
 Christians. We get up at half-past four, breakfast at half- 
 past six, dine at half-past twelve, and go to bed at nine. 
 
 " The thin frock which you made for me is considered a 
 most splendid article, and I should not wonder If it were to 
 become the summer uniform of the Connnunlty. I have a 
 thick frock, likewise ; but it is rather deficient in grace, 
 though extremely warm and comfortable. I wear a tre- 
 mendous pair of cowhide boots, with soles two Inches thick, 
 — of course, when I come to see you I shall wear my farm- 
 er's dress. 
 
 " We shall be very much occupied during most of this 
 month, ploughing and planting; so that I doubt whether 
 you will see me for two or three weeks. You have the por- 
 trait by this time, I suppose, so -you can very well dispense 
 with the original. When you write to me (which I beg you 
 will do soon), direct your letter to West Roxbury, as there 
 are two post-ofiBces in the town. I would write more, but 
 William Allen is going to the village, and must have this 
 letter. So good-by. 
 
 " Nath. Hawthorne, Ploughman." 
 
 rv. 
 
 LIFE AT THE OLD MANSE. 
 
 Hawthorne remained but a few months at Brook Farm ; 
 but he stored the experience in his mind, and some years 
 later availed himself of it, when writing The BUthedale 
 Romance. On the 9th of July, 1842, he married Miss 
 Peabody, and the young couple went to live in Concord, 
 Massachusetts. They occupied for four years an old house 
 near the river, which had been the home of the village 
 minister for more than one generation, and was known as 
 the Old Manse. Their eldest child was born there, and the 
 
 1 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xvii 
 
 life of the husband and wife was one of great happiness. 
 They were wont to keep a joint diary, in which now one, 
 now the otlier, held the pen, Hawthorne was tliiity-eight 
 years old, and his solitary life hitherto had confirmed a 
 natural tendency to seclusion; his wife guarded well his 
 solitude, and he in turn gave her a love which was infused 
 with reverence. 
 
 Yet the Hawthornes were not without the choicest com- 
 pany ; for at this time Emerson was living in Concord. It 
 was in the old Manse itself that he had written Nature., a 
 long essay which had brought him into the notice of thought- 
 ful men. " It was good," Hawthorne wrote, " to meet him 
 in the wood paths, or sometimes in our avenue, with that 
 pure intellectual gleam diffused about his presence, like the 
 garment of a shining one ; and he so quiet, so simple, so 
 without pretension, encountering each man alive, as if ex- 
 pecting to receive more than he could impart." Younger 
 men were Thoreau and Ellery Channing, the latter a poet 
 and dreamer, still living (1896) in Concord, and known, 
 among other ways, by his curious published sketch of 
 Thoreau. Others, like George S. Hillard, who wrote Six 
 Months in Italy, came as visitors to Concord, attracted by 
 the companionship of the men of letters who made it their 
 home. 
 
 Hawthorne occupied himself with writing, printing 
 some things and burying more in his capacious note-books. 
 The most enduring of his work is to be found in his 
 Mosses from an Old Manse, a collection of twenty-six 
 tales, together with a delightful introductory chapter, de- 
 scriptive of the manse itself. The title of the book inti- 
 mates how antique for the most part were the stories he had 
 been writing ; how, like the moss, they gathered about tha 
 life of an old society. 
 
xviii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 V. 
 OUT IN THE WORLD. 
 
 Mosses from an Old Manse was published in 1846 ; in 
 that same year he was appointed surveyor of the port of 
 Salem, and held the office for three years. It was while 
 living in Salem, among the old familiar scenes, that he 
 wrote the novel which gave him fame, The Scarlet Letter ; 
 yet so diffident was he, and so discouraged by the slow sale 
 of the little books he had put forth, that the manuscript of 
 the first draft of the novel lay neglected, until the loss of 
 his office through a change of administration made some 
 resource necessary, and the encouragement of his wife and 
 Mr. James T. Fields, the publisher, led to the finishing of 
 the work. 
 
 The publication at once brought Hawthorne into distinc- 
 tion, and shortly after he took his family to Lenox, in the 
 western part of Massachusetts, where he lived for more 
 than a year, occupying a small red wooden house near the 
 Stockbridge Bowl. The delights of country life, and the 
 pleasure which he took in his little family of a son and 
 daughter, reappear in the embroidery of the Wonder-Book, 
 and Tanglewood Tales, for though the small people to 
 whom the stories are told in imagination are not actual 
 reproductions of his own children, the childish life is a 
 reflex of what he was now enjoying, and it was a pleasant 
 fancy which led him to put the tales into the mouth of a 
 young collegian as if he were himself then renewing his 
 youth. 
 
 In September, 1850, he began in Lenox The House of 
 the Seven Gables : but he wrote to Mr. Fields on the first 
 of October : " I sha'n't have the new story ready by Novem- 
 ber, for I am never good for anything in the literary way 
 till after the first autumnal frost, which has somewhat such 
 an effect on my imagination that it does on the foliage here 
 about me — multiplying and brightening its hues." The 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xix 
 
 book was finished in January, 1851. Many have puzzled 
 themselves to find the actual house which stood for Haw- 
 thorne's portrait, and to-day people in Salem point out an 
 old many-gabled house as the original of the one in the 
 story. The truth is Hawthorne constructed his imaginary 
 house as a novelist builds his characters by taking a hint 
 from what he has seen and letting his imagination play 
 about it and create something no one ever set actual eyes on. 
 
 Hawthorne's year at Lenox was the culmination in many 
 respects, of his life. " In the afternoons, nowadays," he 
 records shortly after establishing his home there, " this 
 valley in which I dwell seems like a vast basin filled with 
 golden sunshine as with wine," and his happiness is reflected 
 in his joyous work for children as well as in what may be 
 called the delicate glow which pervades the romance he 
 wrote there in the person of Phcebe Pyncheon, whose face 
 and figure form so graceful a contrast to the tragic circum- 
 stances inwrought in the tale. Mr. Julian Hawthorne has 
 a pleasant account of the happy life of the family at this 
 time. 
 
 " After finishing The House of the Seven Gables, Haw- 
 thorne allowed himself a vacation of about four months ; 
 and there is every reason to suppose that he enjoyed it. 
 He had recovered his health, he had done his work, he was 
 famous, and the region in which he dwelt was beautiful and 
 inspiriting. At all events, he made those spring days mem- 
 orable to his children. He made them boats to sail on the 
 lake, and kites to fly in the air ; he took them fishing and 
 flower-gathering, and tried (unsuccessfully for the present), 
 to teach them swimming. Mr. Melville used to ride or 
 drive up, in the evenings, with his great dog, and the chil- 
 dren used to ride on the dog's back. In short, the place 
 was made a paradise for the small people. In the previous 
 autumn, and still more in the succeeding one, they all went 
 nutting, and filled a certain disused oven in the house with 
 such bags upon bags of nuts as not a hundred children could 
 
XX A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 have devoured during the ensuing winter. The children's 
 father displayed extraordinary activity and energy on these 
 nutting expeditions ; standing on the ground at the foot of 
 a tall walnut-tree, he would bid them turn their backs and 
 cover their eyes with their hands ; then they would hear, for 
 a few seconds, a sound of rustling and scrambling, and, 
 immediately after, a shout, whereupon they would uncover 
 their eyes and gaze upwards ; and lo ! there was their 
 father — who but an instant before, as it seemed, had been 
 beside them — swaying and soaring high aloft on the top- 
 most branches, a delightful mystery and miracle. And 
 then down would rattle showers of ripe nuts, which the 
 children would diligently pick up, and stuff into their capa- 
 cious bags. It was all a splendid holiday ; and they cannot 
 remember when their father was not their playmate, or 
 when they ever desired or imagined any other playmate 
 than he." 
 
 Hawthorne let an interval lapse after writing The House 
 of the Seven Gables, and then took up the pleasant task of 
 tellirig the Greek myths anew in A Wonder-Book for Boys 
 and Gi7'ls. His own little family was increased too by the 
 addition of his daughter Rose. 
 
 Perhaps it was due to the successive changes in his cir- 
 cumstances, perhaps no less to an inborn restlessness, that 
 Hawthorne after his marriage lived but a short time in any 
 one place. At any rate, after a little more than a year in 
 Lenox, he moved his family to West Newton, near Boston, 
 and there he wrote The Blithedale Romance, within easy 
 Rralking distance of Brook Farm, wliich was much in his 
 mind as he wrote. The house at West Newton had been 
 taken only until a more satisfactory and permanent home 
 could be found, and in June, 1852, the household was trans- 
 ferred to Concord again, where Hawthorne had bought the 
 place called The Wayside, built originally by Mr. Alcott, 
 the father of Louisa May Alcott who wrote Little Women. 
 Here he wrote Tanglewood Tales, a companion volume to 
 the Wonder-Book. 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xxi 
 
 VI. 
 A FAMOUS AUTHOR. 
 
 Hawthorne was now a well-known American author, not 
 so much because he had written books which everybody had 
 read, as because the best judges of good books in Americq 
 and England were eager to read everything he might write, 
 for they saw that a new and great author had arisen. In 
 1853 his old college friend Franklin Pierce was President, 
 and he appointed Hawthorne consul of the United States in 
 Liverpool, England. Thither he went with his family, and 
 remained in Europe until 1860, although he left the consul- 
 ate in 1857. The seven years which he spent abroad were 
 happy ones, and his Note-Boohs, passages from which have 
 been published, give charming accounts of what he saw and 
 did. Two books grew out of his life in Europe : Our Old 
 Home, which tells of sights and people in England ; and 
 The Marble Faun^ which is a novel, with its scene laid in 
 Italy. 
 
 Rambling thus through Europe with his wife and chil- 
 dren, Hawthorne came to be known by them very intimately, 
 and his youngest daughter, Mrs. Rose Hawthorne Lathrop, 
 has given many glimpses of the great writer as he appeared 
 to a loving child. " He was a delightful companion," she 
 says, " even when little was said, because his eyes spoke 
 with a sort of apprehension of your thought, so that you 
 felt that your expression of face was a clear record for him, 
 and that words would have been a sort of anti-climax. . . . 
 I always felt a great awe of him, a tremendous sense of his 
 power. His large eyes, liquid with blue and white light 
 and deep with dark shadows, told me even when I was very 
 young that he was in some respects different from other peo' 
 pie. . . . He never became wholly merged in fun, however 
 gay the games in which he joined with us children ; just as 
 a man who has been in war never quite throws aside the 
 dignity of the sorrow which he has seen. He might seem, 
 
xxii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 at a superficial glance, to be the merriest of us all, but on 
 second thoughts he was not. Of course, there were times 
 when it was very evident to me that my father was as com- 
 fortable and happy as he cared to be. When he stood upon 
 the hearth-rug, before the snapping, blushing English fire 
 (always poked into a blaze toward evening, as he was about 
 to enter the parlor), — when he stood there with his hands 
 clasped behind him, swaying from side to side in a way 
 peculiar to him, and which recalled the many sea-swayed 
 ancestors of his who had kept their feet on rolling decks, 
 then he was a picture of benevolent pleasure. He swayed 
 from side to side and raised himself on his toes, and creaked 
 his slippered heels jocosely, and smiled upon me, and lost 
 himself in agreeable musings. . . . We were usually a silent 
 couple when off for a walk together, or when we met by 
 chance in the household. I suppose that we were seeing 
 which could outdo the other at ' holding the tongue.' 
 
 " On Sundays, at sundown, when the winter rain had 
 very likely dulled everybody's sense of mere moderate 
 humor, the blue law of quietness was lifted from the atmos- 
 phere ; and between five and six o'clock we spread butterfly 
 wings again, and had blind man's buff. We ran round the 
 large centre-table, and made this gambol most tempestu- 
 ously merry. If anything had been left upon the table before 
 we began, it was removed with rapidity before we finished. 
 There was a distinct understanding that our blind-folded 
 father must not be permitted to touch any of us, or else 
 we should be reduced forthwith to our original dust. The 
 pulsing grasp of his great hands and heavy fingers, soft 
 and springing in their manipulation of one's shoulders, as 
 the touch of a wild thing, was amusingly harmless, consid- 
 ering the howls with which his onslaught was evaded as 
 long as our flying legs were loyal to us. My father's gentle 
 laughter and happy-looking lips were a revelation during 
 these bouts." 
 
 After his return from Europe, Hawthorne took up his life 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xxiii 
 
 again at Concord, and besides writing the papers which he 
 collected in Our Old Home., he began a romance called 
 The Doll'iver liomance. He did not live to conii)lete it, 
 but died May 19, 1864, and was buried on a hill-side in the 
 cemetery at Concord. The day on which he was buried 
 was the one lovely day of a stormy week, and in a poem 
 which Longfellow wrote after the funeral we may catch a 
 glimpse of the beauty of the scene, and know a little of 
 the thoughts of those who were present. 
 
 How beautiful it was, that one bright day 
 
 In the long week of rain ! 
 Though all its splendor could not chase away 
 
 The omnipresent paiij. 
 
 The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, 
 
 And the great elms o'erhead 
 Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms 
 
 Shot through with golden thread. 
 
 Many famous men and women followed him as he was 
 borne to the grave, and a few of them knew him. Yet 
 very few could say they knew him well. The people who 
 now read his books may know almost as much of him as 
 those wdio met him daily, for it was in his books that he 
 made himself known. Most of his writings, it is true, are 
 better read by older people than by children, for though he 
 wrote some books expressly for the young, he was most 
 deeply moved by thoughts about life which the young can- 
 not understand. He sometimes made allegories, like Bun- 
 yan's Pilgrim's Progress^ one of them being the well-known 
 Little Daffydowndilly ; and he always cared for the strange 
 things which happen, just as some people like to walk in the 
 twilight and to listen to mysterious sounds. He was not 
 afraid of the dark, and he thought much of how people felt 
 when they had done wrong or had suffered some great 
 trouble. 
 
 Hawthorne left a son and two daughters, the elder of 
 
xxiv NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 whom, Una Hawthorne, died in 1877. Mrs. Hawthorne 
 had already died in 1871. The son, Julian Hawthorne, 
 has written a life of his father and mother, which is pub- 
 lished in two volumes, under the title Nathaniel Haictliorne 
 and his Wife. His son-in-law, George Parsons Lathrop, 
 has also written A Study of Hawthorne^ which gives the 
 facts of his life in connection with his literary career ; and 
 Mrs. Lathrop has published Some Memories of Hawthorne 
 from which quotations have been given above. Dr. Oliver 
 Wendell Holmes published in The Atlantic Monthly for 
 July, 1864, an account of Hawthorne in his last days. It 
 is interesting to compare the two pen-pictures of the great 
 romancer which the poet Lowell has drawn, an early one in 
 his Fable for Critics ; a l^te one in his poem Agassiz. If 
 one would know how Hawthorne looked, he has several 
 portraits to consult besides the one prefixed to this book, 
 issued by the publisher of Hawthorne's works. 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE 
 
 In writing this ponderous tome, the author's desire 
 has been to describe the eminent characters and re- 
 markable events of our annals in such a form and 
 style that the young may make acquaintance with 
 them of their own accord. For this j)urpose, while 
 ostensibly relating the adventures of a chair, he has 
 endeavored to keep a distinct and unbroken thread of 
 authentic history. The chair is made to pass from one 
 to another of those personages of whom he thought it 
 most desirable for the young reader to have vi\ad and 
 familiar ideas, and whose lives and actions would best 
 enable him to give picturesque sketches of the times. 
 On its sturdy oaken legs it trudges diligently from one 
 scene to another, and seems always to thrust itself in 
 the way, with most benign complacency, whenever an 
 historical personage happens to be looking round for 
 a seat. 
 
 There is certainly no method by which the shadowy 
 outlines of departed men and women can be made to 
 assume the hues of life more effectually than by con- 
 necting their images with the substantial and homely 
 reality of a fireside chair. It causes us to feel at once 
 that these characters of history had a private and fa- 
 miliar existence, and were not wholly contained within 
 that cold array of outward action which we are com- 
 pelled to receive as the adequate representation of 
 
xxvi AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 their lives. If this impression can be given, much is 
 accomplished. 
 
 Setting aside Grandfather and his auditors, and ex- 
 cejiting the adventures of the chair, which form the 
 machinery of the work, nothing in the ensuing pages 
 can be termed fictitious. The author, it is true, has 
 sometimes assumed the license of filling up the outline 
 of history with details for which he has none but im- 
 aginative authority, but which, he hopes, do not violate 
 nor give a false coloring to the truth. He believes 
 that, in this respect, his narrative will not be found to 
 convey ideas and impressions of which the reader may 
 hereafter find it necessary to purge his mind. 
 
 The author's great doubt is, whether he has suc- 
 ceeded in writing a book which will be readable by 
 the class for whom he intends it. To make a lively 
 and entertaining narrative for children, with such un- 
 malleable material as is presented by the sombre, 
 stern, and rigid characteristics of the Puritans and 
 their descendants, is quite as difficult an attempt as 
 to manufacture delicate playthings out of the granite 
 rocks on which New England is founded. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 1620-1692. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GRANDFATHER AND THE CHILDREN AND THE CHAIR. 
 
 Grandfather had been sitting in his old arm-chair 
 all that pleasant afternoon, while the children were 
 pursuing their various sports far off or near at hand. 
 Sometimes you would have said, " Grandfather is 
 asleep ; " but still, even when his eyes were closed, his 
 thoughts were with the young people, playing among 
 the flowers and shrubbery of the garden. 
 
 He heard the voice of Laurence, who had taken pos- 
 session of a heap of decayed branches which the gar- 
 dener had lopped from the fruit-trees, and was build- 
 ing a little hut for his cousin Clara and himself. He 
 heard Clara's gladsome voice, too, as she weeded and 
 watered the flower-bed which had been given her for 
 her own. He could have counted every footstep that 
 Charley took, as he trundled his wheelbarrow along 
 the gravel-walk. And though Grandfather was old 
 and gray-haired, yet his heart leaped with joy when- 
 ever little Alice came fluttering, like a butterfly, into 
 the room. She had made each of the children her 
 playmate in turn, and now made Grandfather her 
 
2 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 playmate too, and thought him the merriest of them 
 all. 
 
 At last the children grew weary of their sports, 
 because a summer afternoon is like a lo:ng lifetime to 
 the young. So they came into the room together, and 
 clustered round Grandfather's great chair. Little 
 Alice, who was hardly five years old, took the priv- 
 ilege of the youngest, and climbed his knee. It was 
 a pleasant thing to behold that fair and golden-haired 
 child in the lap of the old man, and to think that, dif- 
 ferent as they were, the hearts of both could be glad- 
 dened with the same joys. 
 
 " Grandfather," said little Alice, laying her head 
 back upon his arm, " I am very tired now. You must 
 tell me a story to make me go to sleep." 
 
 "That is not what story-tellers like," answered 
 Grandfather, smiling. "They are better satisfied 
 when they can keep their auditors awake." 
 
 " But here are Laurence, and Charley, and I," 
 cried cousin Clara, who was twice as old as little 
 Alice. " We will all three keep wide awake. And 
 pray, Grandfather, tell us a story about this strange- 
 iooking old chair." 
 
 Now, the chair in which Grandfather sat was made 
 of oak, which had grown dark witli age, but had been 
 rubbed and polished till it shone as bright as mahog- 
 any. It was very large and heavy, and had a back 
 that rose high above Grandfather's white head. This 
 back was curiously carved in open work, so as to rep- 
 resent flowers, and foliage, and other devices, which 
 the children had often gazed at, but could never un- 
 derstand what they meant. On the very tip-top of the 
 chair, over the head of Grandfather himself, was a 
 likeness of a lion's head, which had such a savage grin 
 
GRANDFATHER AND THE CHILDREN. 3 
 
 that you would almost expect to hear it growl and 
 snarl. 
 
 The children had seen Grandfather sitting in this 
 chair ever since they could remember anything. Per- 
 haps the younger of them supposed that he and the 
 chair had come into the world together, and that both 
 had always been as old as they were now. At this 
 time, however, it happened to be the fashion for la- 
 dies to adorn their drawing-rooms with the oldest and 
 oddest chairs that could be found. It seemed to cou- 
 sin Clara that, if these ladies could have seen Grand- 
 father's old chair, they would have thought it worth 
 all the rest together. She wondered if it were not 
 even older than Grandfather himself, and longed to 
 know all about its history. 
 
 " Do, Grandfather, talk to us about this chair," she 
 repeated. 
 
 " Well, child," said Grandfather, patting Clara's 
 cheek, " I can tell you a great many stories of my 
 chair. Perhaps your cousin Laurence would like to 
 hear them too. They would teach him something 
 about the history and distinguished people of his 
 country which he has never read in any of his school- 
 books." 
 
 Cousin Laurence was a boy of twelve, a bright 
 scholar, in whom an early thoughtfulness and sensi- 
 bility began to show themselves. His young fancy 
 kindled at the idea of knowing all the adventures of 
 this venerable chair. He looked eagerly in Grand- 
 father's face ; and even Charley, a bold, brisk, restless 
 little fellow of nine, sat himself down on the carpet, 
 and resolved to be quiet for at least ten minutes, should 
 the story last so long. 
 
4 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Meantime, little Alice was already asleep ; so Grand- 
 father, being much pleased with such an attentive audi- 
 ence, began to talk about matters that happened long 
 ago. 
 
CHAPTER IT. 
 
 THE PURITANS AND THE LADY ARBELLA. 
 
 But before relating the adventures of the chair, 
 Grandfather found it necessary to speak of circum- 
 stances that caused the .first settlement of New Eng- 
 land. For it will soon be perceived that the story of 
 this remarkable chair cannot be told without telling a 
 great deal of the history of the country. 
 
 So Grandfather talked about the Puritans,^ as those 
 persons were called who thought it sinful to practise 
 certain religious forms and ceremonies of the Church 
 of England. These Puritans suffered so much perse- 
 cution in England that, in 1607, many of them went 
 over to Holland, and lived ten or twelve years at Am- 
 sterdam and Leyden. But they feared that, if they 
 continued there much longer, they should cease to be 
 English, and should adopt all the manners, and ideas, 
 and feelings of the Dutch. For this and other rea- 
 sons, in the year 1620 they embarked on board the 
 ship Mayflower, and crossed the ocean, to the shores 
 of Cape Cod. There they made a settlement, and 
 
 ^ It is more precise to give the name of Pilgrims to those 
 Englishmen wlio went to Holland and afterward to Plymouth. 
 They were sometimes called Separatists because they separated 
 themselves from the church of England, sometimes Brownists 
 after the name of one of their eminent ministers. The Puritans 
 formed a great political as well as religious party in England, 
 and did not at first separate themselves from the church of Eng- 
 land, though those who came to this country did so at once. 
 
6 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 called it Plymouth, which, though now a part of 
 Massachusetts, was for a long time a colony by it- 
 self. And thus was formed the earliest settlement 
 of the Puritans in America. 
 
 Meantime, those of the Puritans who remained in 
 England continued to suffer grievous j)ersecution on 
 account of their religious opinions. They began to 
 look around them for some spot where they might wor- 
 ship God, not as the king and bishops thought fit, but 
 accordinof to the dictates of their own consciences. 
 When their brethren had gone from Holland to 
 America, they bethought themselves that they likewise 
 might find refuge from persecution there. Several 
 gentlemen among them purchased a tract of country 
 on the coast of Massachusetts Bay, and obtained a 
 charter from King Charles, which authorized them to 
 make laws for the settlers. In the year 1628 they 
 sent over a few people, with John Endicott at their 
 head, to commence a plantation at Salem.^ Peter 
 PaKrey, Roger Conant, and one or two more had 
 built houses there in 1626, and may be considered as 
 the first settlers of that ancient town. Many other 
 Puritans prepared to follow Endicott. 
 
 " And now we come to the chair, my dear children,'* 
 said Grandfather. " This chair is supposed to have 
 been made of an oak-tree which grew in the park of 
 the English Earl of Lincoln between two and three 
 centuries ago. In its younger days it used, probably, 
 to stand in the hall of the earl's castle. Do not you 
 see the coat of arms of the family of Lincoln carved 
 in the open work of the back ? But when his daugh- 
 
 1 The Puritans had a liking for Biblical names for their chil 
 dren, and they sometimes gave names out of the Bible to places. 
 Salem means Peace. The Indian name was Naumkeag. 
 
THE LADY ARBELLA. 7 
 
 ter, the Lady Arbella, was married to a certain Mr. 
 Johnson, the earl gave her this valuable chair." 
 
 " Who was Mr. Johnson ? " inquired Clara. 
 
 " lie was a gentleman of great wealth, who agreed 
 with the Puritans in their religious opinions," an- 
 swered Grandfather. '-' And as his belief was the 
 same as theirs, he resolved that he would live and die 
 with them. Accordingly, in the month of April, 1630, 
 he left his pleasant abode and all his comforts in Eng- 
 land, and embarked, with Lady Arbella, on board of 
 a shij) bound for America." 
 
 As Grandfather was frequently impeded by the 
 questions and observations of his young auditors, we 
 deem it advisable to omit all such prattle as is no( 
 essential to the story. We have taken some pains to 
 find out exactly what Grandfather said, and here 
 offer to our readers, as nearly as possible in his own 
 words, the story of the Lady Arbella. 
 
 The ship in which Mr. Johnson and his lady em- 
 barked, taking Grandfather's chair along with them, 
 was called the Arbella, in honor of the lady herself. 
 A fleet of ten or twelve vessels, with many hundred 
 passengers, left England about the same time ; for a 
 multitude of peoj^le, who were discontented with the 
 king's government and oppressed by the bishops, were 
 flockins: over to the New World. One of the vessels 
 in the fleet was that same Mayflower which had car- 
 ried the Puritan Pilgrims to Plymouth. And now, 
 my children, I would have you fancy yourselves in the 
 cabin of the good ship Arbella ; because, if you could 
 behold the passengers aboard that vessel, you would 
 feel what a blessing and honor it was for New Eng- 
 land to have such settlers. They were the best men 
 and women of their day. 
 
8 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Among the passengers was John Winthrop, who 
 had sold the estate of his forefathers, and was going to 
 prepare a new home for his wife and children in the 
 wilderness. He had the king's charter in his keeping, 
 and was appointed the first governor of Massachu- 
 setts. Imagine him a person of grave and benevolent 
 aspect, dressed in a black velvet suit, with a broad 
 ruff around his neck, and a peaked beard upon his 
 chin. ^ There was likewise a minister of the gospel 
 whom the English bishops had forbidden to preach, 
 but who knew that he should have liberty both to 
 preach and pray in the forests of America. He wore 
 a black cloak, called a Geneva cloak, and had a black 
 velvet cap, fitting close to his head, as was the fashion 
 of almost all the Puritan clergymen. In their com- 
 pany came Sir Richard Saltonstali, who had been one 
 of the five first projectors of the new colony. He 
 soon returned to his native country. But his descend- 
 ants still remain in New England ; and the good old 
 family name is as much respected in our days as it 
 was in those of Sir Richard. 
 
 Not only these, but several other men of wealth and 
 pious ministers were in the cabin of the Arbella. One 
 had banished himself forever from the old hall where 
 liis ancestors had lived for hundreds of years. An- 
 other had left his quiet parsonage, in a country town 
 of England. Others had come from the Universities 
 of Oxford or Cambridge, where they had gained great 
 fame for their learning. And here they all were, toss- 
 ing upon the uncertain and dangerous sea, and bound 
 for a home that was more dangerous than even the 
 
 ^ There is a statue representing John Winthrop in Scollay 
 Square in Boston. He holds the charter in his hand, and a 
 Bible is under his arm. 
 
THE LADY ARBELLA. 9 
 
 sea itself. In the cabin, likewise, sat the Lady Ar- 
 bella in her chair, with a gentle and sweet expression 
 on her face, but looking too pale and feeble to endure 
 the hardships of the wilderness. 
 
 Every morning aud evening the Lady Arbella gave 
 up her great chair to one of the ministers, who took 
 his place in it and read passages from the Bible to his 
 companions. And thus, with prayers, and pious con- 
 versation, and frequent singing of hymns, which the 
 breezes caught from their lips and scattered far over 
 the desolate waves, they prosecuted their voyage, and 
 sailed into the harbor of Salem in the month of June. 
 
 At that period there were but six or eight dwellings 
 in the town ; and these were miserable hovels, with 
 roofs of straw and wooden chimneys. The passengers 
 in the fleet either built huts with bark and branches 
 of trees, or erected tents of cloth till they could pro- 
 vide themselves with better shelter. Many of them 
 went to form a settlement at Charlestown. It was 
 thought fit that the Lady Arbella should tarry in 
 Salem for a time ; she was probably received as a 
 guest into the family of John Endicott. He was the 
 chief person in the plantation, and had the only com- 
 fortable house which the new-comers had beheld since 
 they left England. So now% children, you must imag- 
 ine Grandfather's chair in the midst of a new scene. 
 
 Suppose it a hot summer's day, and the lattice-win- 
 dows of a chamber in Mr. Endicott's house thrown 
 wide open. The Lady Arbella, looking paler than she 
 did on shipboard, is sitting in her chair and thinking 
 mournfully of far-off England. She rises and goes to 
 the window. There, amid patches of garden ground 
 and cornfield, she sees the few wretched hovels of the 
 settlers, with the still ruder wigwams and cloth tents 
 
10 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 of the passengers who had arrived in the same fleet 
 with herself. Far and near stretches the dismal forest 
 of pine-trees, which throw their black shadows over 
 the whole land, and likewise over the heart of this 
 poor lady. 
 
 All the inhabitants of the little village are busy. 
 One is clearing a spot on the verge of the forest for 
 his homestead ; another is hewing the trunk of a fallen 
 pine-tree, in order to build himself a dwelling ; a third 
 is hoeing in his field of Indian corn. Here comes a 
 huntsman out of the woods, dragging a bear which he 
 has shot, and shouting to the neighbors to lend him a 
 hand. There goes a man to the sea-shore, with a 
 spade and a bucket, to dig a mess of clams, which 
 were a principal article of food with the first settlers. 
 Scattered here and there are two or three dusky fig- 
 ures, clad in mantles of fur, with ornaments of bone 
 hanging from their ears, and the feathers of wild birds 
 in their coal-black hair. They have belts of shell- 
 work slung across their shoulders, and are armed with 
 bows and arrows, and flint-headed spears. These are 
 an Indian sagamore^ and his attendants, who have 
 come to gaze at the labors of the white men. And 
 now rises a cry that a pack of wolves have seized a 
 young calf in the pasture ; and every man snatches up 
 his gun or pike and runs in chase of the marauding- 
 beasts. 
 
 Poor Lady Arbella watches all these sights, and 
 feels that this New World is fit only for rough and 
 hardy people. None should be here but those who 
 can struggle with wild beasts and wild men, and can 
 toil in the heat or cold, and can keep their hearts firm 
 against all difficulties and dangers. But she is not 
 ^ Sagamore = c\x\&i. 
 
THE LADY ARBELLA. 11 
 
 one of these. Her gentle and timid spirit sinks within 
 her ; and, turning away from the window, she sits 
 down in the great chair and wonders whereabouts in 
 the wilderness her friends will dig her grave. 
 
 Mr. Johnson had gone, with Governor Winthrop 
 and most of the other passengers, to Boston, where he 
 intended to build a house for Lady Arbella and him- 
 self. Boston was then covered with wild woods, and 
 had fewer inhabitants, even, than Salem. During 
 her husband's absence, poor Lady Arbella felt her- 
 self growing ill, and was hardly able to stir from the 
 great chair. Whenever John Endicott noticed her 
 despondency he doubtless addressed her with words of 
 comfort. " Cheer up, my good lady ! " he would say. 
 *' In a little time you will love this rude life of the 
 wilderness as I do." But Endicott's heart was as bold 
 and resolute as iron, and he could not understand why 
 a woman's heart should not be of iron too. 
 
 Still, however, he spoke kindly to the lady, and 
 then hastened forth to till his cornfield and set out 
 fruit-trees, or to bargain with the Indians for furs, or 
 perchance to oversee the building of a fort. Also,, 
 being a magistrate, he had often to punish some idler 
 or evil doer, by ordering him to be set in the stocks ^ 
 or scourged at the whipping-post. Often, too, as was 
 the custom of the times, he and Mr. Higginson, the 
 minister of Salem, held long religious talks together. 
 Thus John Endicott was a man of multifarious busi- 
 ness, and had no time to look back regretfully to his 
 native land. He felt himself fit for the New World 
 and for the work that he had to do, and set himself 
 resolutely to accomplish it. 
 
 1 Stocks. A frame of timber with holes in which the legs, and 
 sometimes also the arms, of the prisoner were confined ; used in 
 old times for the punishment of petty offenders. 
 
12 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 What a contrast, my dear cliildren, between this 
 bold, rough, active man, and the gentle Lady Arbella, 
 who was fading away, like a pale English flower, in 
 the shadow of the forest ! And now the great chair 
 was often empty, because Lady Arbella grew too weak 
 to arise from bed. 
 
 Meantime, her husband had pitched upon a spot for 
 their new home. He returned from Boston to Salem, 
 travelling through the woods on foot, and leaning on 
 his pilgrim's staff. His heart yearned within him ; 
 for he was eager to tell his wife of the new home 
 which he had chosen. But when he beheld her pale 
 and hollow cheek, and found how her strength was 
 wasted, he must have known that her appointed home 
 was in a better land. Happy for him then — happy 
 both for him and her — if they remembered that there 
 was a path to heaven, as well from this heathen wil- 
 derness as from the Christian land whence they had 
 come. And so, in one short month from her arrival, 
 the gentle Lady Arbella faded away and died. They 
 dug a grave for her in the new soil, where the roots 
 of the pine-trees impeded their spades ; and when her 
 bones had rested there nearly two hundred years, and 
 a city had sprung up around them, a church of stone 
 was built upon the spot.^ 
 
 Charley, almost at the commencement of the fore- 
 going narrative, had galloped away, with a prodigious 
 clatter, upon Grandfather's stick, and was not yet re- 
 turned. So large a boy should have been ashamed to 
 ride upon a stick. But Laurence and Clara had lis- 
 tened attentively, and were affected by this true story 
 of the gentle lady who had come so far to die so soon, 
 1 St. Peter's church in Salem. 
 
THE LADY ARBELLA. 13 
 
 Grandfather had supposed that little Alice was asleep ; 
 but towards the close of the story, happening to look 
 down upon her, he saw that her blue eyes were wide 
 open, and fixed earnestly upon his face. The tears 
 had gathered in them, like dew upon a delicate flower ; 
 but when Grandfather ceased to speak, the sunshine of 
 her smile broke forth again. 
 
 " Oh, the lady must have been so glad to get to 
 heaven ! " exclaimed little Alice. 
 
 " Grandfather, what became of Mr. Johnson ? " 
 asked Clara. 
 
 '' His heart appears to have been quite broken," an- 
 swered Grandfather ; " for he died at Boston within a 
 month after the death of his wife. He was buried in 
 the very same tract of ground where he had intended 
 to build a dwelling for Lady Arbella and himself. 
 Where their house would have stood, there was his 
 grave." 
 
 " I never heard anything so melancholy," said Clara. 
 
 " The people loved and respected Mr. Johnson so 
 much," continued Grandfather, '' that it was the last 
 request of many of them, when they died, that they 
 might be buried as near as possible to this good man's 
 grave. And so the field became the first burial ground 
 in Boston. When you pass through Tremont Street, 
 along by King's Chapel, you see a burial-ground, con- 
 taining many old grave-stones and monuments. That 
 was Mr. Johnson's field." 
 
 " How sad is the thought," observed Clara, " that 
 one of the first things which the settlers had to do, 
 when they came to the New World, w\is to set apart a 
 burial-ground! " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Laurence, " if they had found no 
 
14 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 need of burial-grounds here, they would have been 
 glad, after a few years, to go back to England." 
 
 Grandfather looked at Laurence, to discover whether 
 he knew how profound and true a thing he had said. 
 

 
 ■/■Si 
 
 
 
 mpmmf 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 mi^:^^ 
 
 
 
 king's chapel burying ground, boston 
 
 Here are buried Governor Winthrop and other distinguished men of the early tim* 
 The first burial was in 1630. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A RAINY DAY. 
 
 Not long after Grandfather had told the story of 
 his great chair, there chanced to be a rainy day. Our 
 friend Charley, after disturbing the household with 
 beat of drum and riotous shouts, races up and down 
 the staircase, overturning of chairs, and much other 
 uproar, began to feel the quiet and confinement within 
 doors intolerable. But as the rain came down in a 
 flood, the little fellow was hopelessly a prisoner, and 
 now stood with sullen aspect at a window, w^ondering 
 whether the sun itself were not extinguished by so 
 much moisture in the sky. 
 
 Charley had already exhausted the less eager activity 
 of the other children ; and they had betaken them- 
 selves to occupations that did not admit of his com- 
 panionship. Laurence sat in a recess near the book- 
 case, reading, not for the first time, the Midsummer 
 Night's Dream. Clara was making a rosary of beads 
 for a little figure of a Sister of Charity, who was to 
 attend the Bunker Hill fair and lend her aid in erect- 
 ing the Monument.^ Little Alice sat on Grandfather's 
 
 ^ The building of Bunker Hill monument was begun when 
 the corner stone was laid in 1825. Lafayette, the French soldier 
 who had foufjht in our war for independence, was revisiting 
 America and was present on the occasion. The monument was 
 not completed until 1842, and all sorts of expedients like fairs 
 and entertainments were resorted to for the raising: of funds. 
 
16 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 footstool, with a picture-book in her hand ; and, for 
 every picture, the child was telling Grandfather a 
 story. She did not read from the book (for little 
 Alice had not much skill in reading), but told the 
 story out of her own heart and mind. 
 
 Charley was too big a boy, of course, to care any, 
 thing about little Alice's stories, although Grandfather 
 appeared to listen with a good deal of interest. Often, 
 in a young child's ideas and fancies, there is some- 
 thing which it requires the thought of a lifetime to 
 comprehend. But Charley was of opinion that, if a 
 story must be told, it had better be told by Grandfather 
 than little Alice. 
 
 " Grandfather, I want to hear more about your 
 chair," said he. 
 
 Now, Grandfather remembered that Charley had 
 galloped away upon a stick in tlie midst of the narra- 
 tive of poor Lady Arbella, and I know not whether 
 he would have thought it worth while to tell another 
 story merely to gratify such an inattentive auditor as 
 Charley. But Laurence laid down his book and sec- 
 onded the request. Clara drew her chair nearer to 
 Grandfather ; and little Alice immediately closed her 
 picture-book and looked up into his face. Grand- 
 father had not the heart to disappoint them. 
 
 He mentioned several persons who had a share in 
 the settlement of our country, and who would be well 
 worthy of remembrance, if we could find room to tell 
 about them all. Among the rest, Grandfather spoke 
 of the famous Hugh Peters, a minister of the gospel, 
 who did much good to the inhabitants of Salem. Mr. 
 Peters afterwards went back to England, and was 
 chaplain to Oliver Cromwell ; but Grandfather did 
 not tell the children what became of this upright and 
 
A RAINY DAY. 17 
 
 zealous man at last.^ In fact, his auditors were grow- 
 ing impatient to hear more about the history of the 
 chair. 
 
 " After the death of Mr. Johnson," said he, " Grand- 
 father's chair came into the possession of Roger Wil- 
 liams. He was a clergyman, who arrived at Salem, 
 and settled there in 1631. Doubtless the ffood man 
 has spent many a studious hour in this old chair, either 
 penning a sermon or reading some abstruse book of 
 theology, till midnight came upon him unawares. At 
 that period, as there were few lamps or candles to be 
 had, people used to read or work by the light of pitch- 
 pine torches. These supplied the place of the ' mid- 
 night oil ' to the learned men of New England." 
 
 Grandfather went on to talk about Roger Williams, 
 and told the children several particulars, which we 
 have not room to repeat. 
 
 ^ Perhaps Grandfather wished to spare Alice the pain of 
 knowing that Hugh Peters was said to have been on tlie seallohl 
 when King Charles I. was beheaded, and so, when King Charles 
 II. came to the throne, Hugh Peters lost his head. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TROUBLOUS TIMES. 
 
 " EoGER Williams," said Graudfather, " did not 
 keep possession of the chair a great while. His opin- 
 ions of civil and religious matters differed, in many 
 respects, from those of the rulers and clergymen of 
 Massachusetts. Now, the wise men of those days be- 
 lieved that the country could not be safe unless all the 
 inhabitants thought and felt alike." 
 
 " Does anybody believe so in our days, Grand- 
 father ? " asked Lawrence. 
 
 '• Possibly there are some who believe it," said 
 Grandfather ; " but they have not so much power to 
 act upon their belief as the magistrates and ministers 
 had in the days of Roger Williams. They had the 
 power to deprive this good man of his home, and to 
 send him out from the midst of them in search of a 
 new place of rest. He was banished in 1634, and 
 went first to Plymouth colony ; but as the people there 
 held the same opinions as those of Massachusetts, he 
 was not suffered to remain among them. However, 
 the wilderness was wide enough ; so Roger Williams 
 took his staff and travelled into the forest and made 
 treaties with the Indians, and began a plantation which 
 he called Providence." 
 
 " I have been to Providence on the railroad," said 
 Charley. *' It is but a two-hours' ride." 
 
 " Yes, Charley," replied Grandfather ; *' but when 
 
TROUBLOUS TIMES. 19 
 
 Roger Williams travelled thither, over hills and val- 
 leys, and through the tangled woods, and across 
 swamps and streams, it was a journey of several days. 
 Well, his little plantation has now grown to be a poj)- 
 ulous city ; and the inhabitants have a great venera- 
 tion for Roger Williams. His name is familiar in the 
 mouths of all, because they see it on their bank-bills. 
 How it would have perplexed this good clergyman if 
 he had been told that he should give his name to the 
 Roger Williams Bank ! " 
 
 " When he was driven from Massachusetts," said 
 Lawrence, " and began his journey into the woods, he 
 must have felt as if he were burying himself forever 
 from the sight and knowledge of men. Yet the whole 
 country has now heard of him, and will remember him 
 forever." 
 
 " Yes," answered Grandfather ; " it often happens 
 that the outcasts of one generation are those who are 
 reverenced as the wisest and best of men by the next. 
 The securest fame is that which comes after a man's 
 death. But let us return to our story. When Roger 
 Williams was banished, he appears to have given the 
 chair to Mrs. Anne Hutchinson. At all events, it 
 Was in her possession in 1637. She was a very sharp- 
 witted and well-instructed lady, and was so conscious 
 of her own wisdom and abilities that she thought it a 
 pity that the world should not have the benefit of 
 them. She therefore used to hold lectures in Boston 
 once or twice a week, at which most of the women at- 
 tended. Mrs. Hutchinson presided at these meetings, 
 sitting with great state and dignity in Grandfather's 
 chair." 
 
 " Grandfather, was it positively this very chair ? " 
 demanded Clara, laying her hand upon its carved 
 elbow. 
 
20 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " Why not, my dear Clara ? " said Grandfather. 
 " Well, Mrs. Hutchinson's lectures soon caused a 
 great disturbance ; for the ministers of Boston did not 
 think it safe and proper that a woman should publicly 
 instruct the people in religious doctrines. Moreover, 
 she made the matter worse by declaring that the Rev. 
 Mr. Cotton w^as the only sincerely pious and holy cler-= 
 gyman in New England. Now, the clergy of those 
 days had quite as much share in the government of 
 the country, though indirectly, as the magistrates them- 
 selves ; so you may imagine what a host of powerful 
 enemies were raised up against Mrs. Hutchinson. A 
 synod was convened ; that is to say, an assemblage of 
 all the ministers in Massachusetts. They declared 
 that there were eighty-two erroneous opinions on re- 
 ligious subjects diffused among the people, and that 
 Mrs. Hutchinson's opinions were of the number." 
 
 " If they had eighty-two wrong opinions," observed 
 Charley, " I don't see how they could have any right 
 ones." 
 
 " Mrs. Hutchinson had many zealous friends and 
 converts," continued Grandfather. " She was favored 
 by young Henry Vane, who had come over from Eng- 
 land a year or two before, and had since been chosen 
 governor of the colony, at the age of twenty-four. But 
 Winthrop and most of the other leading men, as well 
 as the ministers, felt an abhorrence of her doctrines. 
 Thus two opposite parties were formed ; and so fierce 
 were the dissensions that it was feared the consequence 
 would be civil war and bloodshed. But Winthrop 
 and the ministers being the most powerful, they dis- 
 armed and imprisoned Mrs. Hutchinson's adherents. 
 She, like Roger Williams, was banished." 
 
 " Dear Grandfather, did they drive the poor woman 
 
TROUBLOUS TIMES. 21 
 
 into the woods? " exclaimed little Alice, who contrived 
 to feel a human interest even in these discords of po- 
 lemic divinity. 
 
 " They did, my darling," replied Grandfather ; " and 
 the end of her life was so sad you must not hear it. 
 At her departure, it appears, from the best authori- 
 ties, that she gave the great chair to her friend Henry 
 Vane. He was a young man of wonderful talents and 
 great learning, who had imbibed the religious opinions 
 of the Puritans, and left England with the intention 
 of spending his life in Massachusetts. The people 
 chose him governor ; but the controversy about Mrs. 
 Hutchinson, and other troubles, caused him to leave 
 the country in 1637. You may read the subsequent 
 events of his life in the History of England." 
 
 " Yes, Grandfather," cried Laurence ; " and we may 
 read them better in Mr. Upham's biography of Vane.^ 
 And what a beautiful death he died, long afterwards ! 
 beautiful, though it was on a scaffold." 
 
 "Many of the most beautiful deaths have been 
 there," said Grandfather. " The enemies of a great 
 and good man can in no other way make him so glo- 
 rious as by giving him the crown of martyrdom." 
 
 In order tliat the children might fully understand 
 the all-important history of the chair, Grandfather now 
 thought fit to speak of the progress that was made in 
 settling several colonies. The settlement of Plymouth, 
 
 ^ Since Mr. Upham's biography was written, a fuller and more 
 minute life has appeared, written by J. K. Hosmer, entitled 
 Young Sir Henry Vane, Governor of Massachusetts Bay, and 
 Leader of the Long Parliament. What the great Puritan poet, 
 John Milton, t,r.uught of Yane may be read in his famous son- 
 net, beginning, '* Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old." 
 Tlie sonnet will be found in Riverside Literature Series, No. 72. 
 One of Whittier's poems, John Underhill, is of a friend of Vane. 
 
22 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 in 1620, has already been mentioned. In 1635 Mr. 
 Hooker and Mr. Stone, two ministers, went on foot 
 from Massachusetts to Connecticut, through the path- 
 less woods, taking their whole congregation along 
 with them. They founded the town of Hartford. In 
 1638 Mr. Davenport, a very celebrated minister, went, 
 with other people, and began a plantation at New 
 Haven. In the same year, some persons who had 
 been persecuted in Massachusetts went to the Isle of 
 Rhodes, since called Rhode Island, and settled there. 
 About this time, also, many settlers had gone to 
 Maine, and were living without any regular govern- 
 ment. There were likewise settlers near Piscataqua 
 River, in the region which is now caUed New Hamp- 
 shire.^ 
 
 Thus, at various points along the coast of New Eng- 
 land, there were communities of Englishmen. Though 
 these communities were independent of one another, 
 yet they had a common dependence upon England; 
 and, at so vast a distance from their native home, the 
 inhabitants must all have felt like brethren. They 
 were fitted to become one united people at a future 
 period. Perhaps their feelings of brotherhood were 
 the stronger because different nations had formed set- 
 tlements to the north and to the south. In Canada 
 and Nova Scotia were colonies of French. On the 
 banks of the Hudson River was a colony of Dutch, 
 who had taken possession of that region many years 
 before, and called it New Netherlands. 
 
 1 Portsmouth is the chief town of the region ; and readers who 
 know Mr. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy have some acquaint- 
 ance with the place under the slight veil of Rivermouth. Mr. 
 Aldrich has written a pleasant book of historic sketches of 
 Portsmouth, called An Old Town by the Sea. 
 
TROUBLOUS TIMES. 23 
 
 Grandfather, for anght I know, might have gone on 
 to speak of Maryland and Virginia ; for the good ohl 
 gentleman really seemed to suppose that the whole sur- 
 face of the United States was not too broad a founda^ 
 tion to place the four legs of his chair upon. But, 
 happening to glance at Charley, he perceived that this 
 naughty boy was growing impatient and meditating 
 another ride upon a stick. So here, for the present, 
 Grandfather suspended the history of his chair. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE GOVERNMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 The children had now learned to look upon the 
 chair with an interest which was almost the same as 
 if it were a conscious being, and could remember the 
 many famous people whom it had held within its arms. 
 
 Even Charley, lawless as he was, seemed to feel that 
 this venerable chair must not be clambered upon nor 
 overturned, although he had no scruple in taking such 
 liberties with every other chair in the house. Clara 
 treated it with still greater reverence, often taking oc- 
 casion to smooth its cushion, and to brush the dust 
 from the carved flowers and grotesque figures of its 
 oaken back and arms. Laurence would sometimes sit 
 a whole hour, especially at twilight, gazing at the chair, 
 and, by the spell of his imaginations, summoning up 
 its ancient occupants to appear in it again. 
 
 Little Alice evidently employed herself in a similar 
 way ; for once when Grandfather hael gone abroad, the 
 child was heard talking with the gentle Lady Arbella, 
 as if she were still sitting in the chair. So sweet a 
 child as little Alice may fitly talk with angels, such as 
 the Lady Arbella had long since become. 
 
 Grandfather was soon importuned for more stories 
 about the chair. He had no difficulty in relating them ; 
 for it really seemed as if every person noted in our 
 early history had, on some occasion or other, found 
 repose within its comfortable arms. If Grandfather 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 25 
 
 took pride in anything, it was in being the possessor 
 of such an honorable and historic elbow-chair. 
 
 " I know not precisely who next got possession of 
 the chair after Governor Vane went back to England," 
 said Grandfather. " But there is reason to believe 
 that President Dunster sat in it, when he held the first 
 Commencement at Harvard College. You have often 
 heard, children, how careful our forefathers were to 
 give their young people a good education. They had 
 scarcely cut down trees enough to make room for their 
 own dwellings before they began to think of establish- 
 ing a college. Their principal object was, to rear up 
 pious and learned ministers ; and hence old writers 
 call Harvard College a school of the prophets." 
 
 "Is the college a school of the prophets now?" 
 asked Charley. 
 
 " It is a long while since I took my degree, Charley. 
 You must ask some of the recent graduates," answered 
 Grandfather. " As I was telling you. President Dun- 
 ster sat in Grandfather's chair in 1642, when he con- 
 ferred the degree of bachelor of arts on nine young 
 men.^ They were the first in America who had re- 
 ceived that honor. And now, my dear auditors, I must 
 confess that there are contradictory statements and 
 some uncertainty about the adventures of the chair for 
 a period of almost ten years. Some say that it was 
 occupied by your own ancestor, William Hawthorne, 
 first speaker of the House of Representatives. I have 
 nearly satisfied myself, however, that, during most of 
 this questionable period, it was literally the chair of 
 
 ^ There really is a quaint old chair used by the President of 
 Harvard University at Commencement, and if Hawthorne wa3 
 not thinking of it, Dr. Holmes was, when he wrote his amusing 
 poem Parson Turell 's Legacy. 
 
26 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 state. It gives me mucli pleasure to imagine that sev- 
 eral successive governors of Massachusetts sat in it at 
 the council board." 
 
 " But, Grandfather," interposed Charley, who was 
 a matter-of-fact little person, " what reason have you 
 to imagine so ? " 
 
 " Pray do imagine it. Grandfather," said Laurence. 
 
 " With Charley's permission, I will," replied Grand- 
 father, smiling. " Let us consider it settled, therefore, 
 that Winthrop, Bellingham, Dudley, and Endicott, 
 each of them, when chosen governor, took his seat in 
 our great chair on election day. In this chair, like- 
 wise, did those excellent governors preside while hold- 
 ing consultations with the chief councillors of the 
 province, who were styled assistants. The governor 
 sat in this chair, too, whenever messages were brought 
 to him from the chamber of representatives." 
 
 And here Grandfather took occasion to talk rather 
 tediously about the nature and forms of government 
 that established themselves, almost spontaneously, in 
 Massachusetts and the other New England colonies. 
 Democracies were the natural growth of the New 
 World. As to Massachusetts, it was at first intended 
 that the colony should be governed by a council in 
 London. But in a little while the people had the 
 whole power in their own hands, and chose annually 
 the governor, the councillors, and the representatives. 
 The people of Old England had never enjoyed any- 
 thing like the liberties and privileges which the set- 
 tlers of New England now possessed. And they did 
 not adopt these modes of government after long study, 
 but in simplicity, as if there were no other way for 
 people to be ruled. 
 
 "But, Laurence," continued Grandfather, "when 
 
C^ ^?^^i^t^j^l^c(f^./;i^'^m?i^ 6?i^/a/id. 
 
 From the oldest known print of Harvard College, engraved in 1726, and representing 
 the college as it appeared when ninety years old. The building on the right. 
 Massachusetts Hall, is still in use. 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 27 
 
 you want instruction on these points, you must seek it 
 in Mr. Bancroft's History. I am merely telling the 
 history of a chair. To proceed. The period during 
 which the governors sat in our chair was not very full 
 of striking incidents. The province was now estab- 
 lished on a secure foundation ; but it did not increase 
 so rapidly as at first, because the Puritans were no 
 longer driven from England by persecution. How- 
 ever, there was still a quiet and natural growth. The 
 Legislature incorporated towns, and made new pur- 
 chases of lands from the Indians. A very memorable 
 event took place in 1643. The colonies of Massachu- 
 setts, Plymouth, Connecticut, and New Haven formed 
 a union, for the purpose of assisting each other in dif- 
 ficulties, for mutual defence against their enemies. 
 They called themselves the United Colonies of New 
 Encrland." 
 
 " Were they under a government like that of the 
 United States ? " inquired Laurence. 
 
 " No," replied Grandfather ; " the different colonies 
 did not compose one nation together ; it was merely 
 a confederacy among the governments. It somewhat 
 resembled the league of the Amphictyons, which you 
 remember in Grecian history. But to return to our 
 chair. In 1644 it was highly honored ; for Governor 
 Endicott sat in it when he gave audience to an ambas- 
 sador from the French governor of Acadia, or Nova 
 Scotia. A treaty of peace between Massachusetts and 
 the French colony was then signed." 
 
 " Did England allow Massachusetts to make war 
 and peace with foreign countries? " asked Laurence. 
 
 " Massachusetts and the whole of New England was 
 then almost independent of the mother country," said 
 Grandfather. " There was now a civil war in Eng- 
 
28 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 land ; and the king, as you may well suppose, had his 
 hands full at home, and could pay but little attention 
 to these remote colonies. When the Parliament got 
 the power into their hands, they likewise had enough 
 to do in keeping down the Cavaliers. Thus New Eng- 
 land, like a young and hardy lad whose father and 
 mother neglect it, was left to take care of itself. In 
 1649 King Charles was beheaded. Oliver Cromwell 
 then became Protector of England ; and as he was a 
 Puritan himself, and had risen by the valor of the 
 English Puritans, he showed himself a loving and in- 
 dulgent father to the Puritan colonies in America." 
 
 Grandfather might have continued to talk in this 
 dull manner nobody knows how long ; but suspecting 
 that Charley would find the subject rather dry, he 
 looked sidewise at that vivacious little fellow, and saw 
 him give an involuntary yawn. Whereupon Grand- 
 father proceeded with the history of the chair, and re- 
 lated a very entertaining incident, which will be found 
 in the next chapter 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 
 
 " According to the most authentic records, my dear 
 children," said Grandfather, " the chair, about this 
 time, had the misfortime to break its leg. It was 
 probably on account of this accident that it ceased to 
 be the seat of the governors of Massachusetts ; for, 
 assuredly, it would have been ominous of evil to the 
 commonwealth if the chair of state had tottered upon 
 three legs. Being therefore sold at auction, — alas ! 
 what a vicissitude for a chair that had figured in such 
 high company ! — our venerable friend was knocked 
 down to a certain Captain John Hull. This old gen- 
 tleman, on carefully examining the maimed chair, dis- 
 covered that its broken leg might be clamped with 
 iron and made as serviceable as ever." 
 
 " Here is the very leg that was broken ! " exclaimed 
 Charley, throwing himself down on the floor to look 
 at it. " And here are the iron clamps. How well it 
 was mended ! " 
 
 When they had all sufficiently examined the broken 
 leg, Grandfather told them a story about Captain 
 John Hull and the Pine-tree Shillings. 
 
 The Captain John Hull aforesaid was the mint-mas- 
 ter of Massachusetts, and coined all the money that 
 was made there. This was a new line of business ; 
 for, in the earlier days of the colony, the current coin- 
 age consisted of gold and silver money of England, 
 
30 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Portugal, and Spain. These coins being scarce, the 
 people were often forced to barter their commodities 
 instead of selling them. 
 
 For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he per- 
 haps exchanged a bear-skin for it. If he wished for 
 a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with a pile 
 of pine boards. Musket-bullets were used instead of 
 farthings. The Indians had a sort of money, called 
 wampum, which was made of clam-shells ; and this 
 strange sort of specie was likewise taken in payment 
 of debts by the English settlers. Bank-bills had never 
 been heard of. There was not money enough of any 
 kind, in many parts of the country, to pay the salaries 
 of the ministers ; so that they sometimes had to take 
 quintals of fish, bushels of corn, or cords of wood, in- 
 stead of silver or gold. 
 
 As the people grew more numerous, and their trade 
 one with another increased, the want of current 
 money was still more sensibly felt. To supply the de- 
 mand, the General Court passed a law for establishing 
 a coinage of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Cap- 
 tain John Hull was appointed to manufacture this 
 money, and was to have about one shilling out of every 
 twenty to pay him for the trouble of making them. 
 
 Hereupon all the old silver in the colony was handed 
 over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver cans 
 and tankards, I suppose, and silver buckles, and bro- 
 ken spoons, and silver buttons of worn-out coats, and 
 silver hilts of swords that had figured at court, — all 
 such curious old articles were doubtless thrown into 
 the melting-pot together. But by far the greater part 
 of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines of 
 South America, which the English buccaneers — who 
 were little better than pirates — had taken from the 
 Spaniards, and brouo:ht to Massachusetts. 
 
THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 31 
 
 All this old and new silver being melted down and 
 coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid 
 shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Each had the 
 date, 1652, on the one side, and the figure of a pine- 
 tree on the other. Hence they were called pine-tree 
 shillings. And for every twenty shillings that he 
 coined, you will remember. Captain John Hull v/as 
 entitled to put one shilling into his own pocket. 
 
 The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mint- 
 master would have the best of the bargain. They of- 
 fered him a large sum of money if he would but give 
 up that twentieth shilling which he was continually 
 dropping into his own pocket. But Captain Hull de- 
 clared himself perfectly satisfied with the shilling. 
 And well he might be ; for so diligently did he labor, 
 that, in a few years, his pockets, his money-bags, and 
 his strong box were overflowing with pine-tree shil- 
 lings. This was probably the case when he came into 
 possession of Grandfather's chair ; and, as he had 
 worked so hard at the mint, it was certainly proper 
 that he should have a comfortable chair to rest him 
 self in. 
 
 When the mint-master had grown very rich, a young 
 man, Samuel Sewall by name, came a-courting to his 
 only daughter. His daughter — whose name I do not 
 know, but we will call her Betsey — was a fine, hearty 
 damsel, by no means so slender as some young ladies 
 of our own days. On the contrary, having always fed 
 heartily on pumpkin-pies, doughnuts, Indian puddings, 
 and other Puritan- dainties, she was as round and 
 plump as a pudding herself. With this round, rosy 
 Miss Betsey did Samuel Sewall fall in love. As he 
 was a young man of good character, industrious in his 
 business, and a member of the church, the mint-master 
 very readily gave his consent. 
 
32 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 *' Yes, you may take her," said he, in his rough way, 
 " and you '11 find her a heavy burden enough ! " 
 
 On the wedding day, we may suppose that honest 
 John Hull dressed himself in a plum-colored coat, all 
 the buttons of which were made of pine-tree shillings. 
 The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences ; and the 
 knees of his small-clothes were buttoned with silver 
 threepences. Thus attired, he sat with great dignity 
 in Grandfather's chair ; and, being a portly old gen- 
 tleman, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. 
 On the opposite side of the room, between her bride- 
 maids, sat Miss Betsey. She was blushing with all 
 her might, and looked like a full-blown peony, or a 
 great red apple. 
 
 There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine 
 purple coat and gold-lace waistcoat, with as much other 
 finery as the Puritan laws and customs would allow 
 him to put on. His hair was cropped close to his 
 head, because Governor Endicott had forbidden any 
 man to wear it below the ears. But he was a very 
 personable young man ; and so thought the bridemaids 
 and Miss Betsey herself. 
 
 The mint-master also was pleased with his new son- 
 in-law ; especially as he had courted Miss Betsey out 
 of pure love, and had said nothing at all about her 
 portion. So, when the marriage ceremony was over, 
 Captain Hull whispered a word to two of his men-ser- 
 vants, who immediately went out, and soon returned, 
 lugging in a large pair of scales. They were such a 
 pair as wholesale merchants use for weighing bulky 
 commodities ; and quite a bulky commodity was now 
 to be weighed in them. 
 
 " Daughter Betsey," said the mint-master, "get into 
 one side of these scales." 
 
THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 33 
 
 Miss Betsey — or Mrs. Sewall, as we must now call 
 her — did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, without 
 any question of the why and wherefore. But what her 
 father could mean, unless to make her husband pay for 
 her by the pound (in which case she would have been 
 a dear bargain), she had not the least idea. 
 
 " And now," said honest John Hull to the servants, 
 "bring that box hither." 
 
 The box to which the mint-master pointed was a 
 huge, square, iron-bound, oaken chest ; it was big 
 enough, my children, for all four of you to play at 
 hide-and-seek in. The servants tugged with might 
 tind main, but could not lift this enormous receptacle, 
 and were finally obliged to drag it across the floor. 
 Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, un- 
 locked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. Be- 
 hold ! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shil- 
 lings, fresh from the mint ; and Samuel Sewall began 
 to think that his father-in-law had got possession of 
 all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But it 
 was only the mint-master's honest share of the coin- 
 age. 
 
 Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, 
 heaped double handfuls of shillings into one side of 
 the scales, while Betsey remained in the other. Jingle, 
 jingle, went the shillings, as handful after handful was 
 thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, they 
 fairly weighed the young lady from the floor. 
 
 " There, son Sewall ! " cried the honest mint-master, 
 resuming his seat in Grandfather's chair, " take these 
 shillings for my daughter's portion. Use her kindly, 
 and thank Heaven for her. It is not every wife that 's 
 worth her weight in silver ! " 
 
 The children laughed heartily at this legend, and 
 
34 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 would hardly be convinced but that Grandfather had 
 made it out of his own head. He assured them faith- 
 fully, however, that he had found it in the pages of a 
 grave historian, and had merely tried to tell it in a 
 somewhat funnier style. As for Samuel Sewall, he 
 afterwards became chief justice of Massachusetts.^ 
 
 " Well, Grandfather," remarked Clara, " if wedding 
 portions nowadays were paid as Miss Betsey's was, 
 young ladies would not pride themselves upon an airy 
 figure, as many of them do." 
 
 1 Whittier's poem The Prophecy of Samuel Sewall gives a very 
 good picture of the chief justice in his old age. 
 
 A PINE-TBEE SHILUlTa. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE QUAKERS AND THE INDIANS. 
 
 ^^Vhen his little audience next assembled round the 
 cjaair, Grandfather gave them a^loleful history of the 
 Quaker persecution, which began in 1656, and raged 
 for about three years in Massachusetts. 
 
 He told them how, in the first place, twelve of the 
 converts of George Fox, the first Quaker in the world, 
 had come over from England. They seemed to be 
 impelled by an earnest love for the souls of men, and 
 a pure desire to make known what they considered a 
 revelation from Heaven. But the rulers looked upon 
 them as plotting the downfall of all government and 
 religion. They were banished from the colony. In a 
 little while, however, not only the first twelve had re- 
 turned, but a multitude of other Quakers had come to 
 rebuke the rulers and to preach against the priests and 
 steeple-houses. 
 
 Grandfather described the hatred and scorn with 
 which these enthusiasts were received. They were 
 thrown into dungeons ; they were beaten with many 
 stripes, women as well as men ; they were driven forth 
 into the wilderness, and left to the tender mercies of 
 wild beasts and Indians. The children were amazed 
 to hear that the more the Quakers were scourged, 
 and imprisoned, and banished, the more did the sect 
 increase, both by the influx of strangers and by con- 
 verts from among the Puritans. But Grandfather 
 
36 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 told them that God had put something into the soul 
 of man, which always turned the cruelties of the per- 
 secutor to nought. 
 
 He went on to relate that, in 1659, two Quakers, 
 named William Robinson and Marmaduke Stephen- 
 son, were hanged at Boston. A woman had been sen- 
 tenced to die with them, but was reprieved on condi- 
 tion of her leaving the colony. Her name was Mary 
 Dyer. In the year 1660 she returned to Boston, al- 
 though she knew death awaited her there ; and, if 
 Grandfather had been correctly informed, an incident 
 had then taken 23lace which connects her with our 
 story. This Mary Dyer had entered the mint-master's 
 dwelling, clothed in sackcloth and ashes, and seated 
 herseK in our great chair with a sort of dignity and 
 state. Then she proceeded to deliver what she called 
 a message from Heaven, but in the midst of it they 
 dragged her to prison. 
 
 " And was she executed ? " asked Laurence. 
 
 " She was," said Grandfather. 
 
 " Grandfather," cried Charley, clinching his fist, 
 " I would have fought for that poor Quaker woman ! " 
 
 " Ah, but if a sword had been drawn for her," said 
 Laurence, " it would have taken away all the beauty 
 of her death." 
 
 It seemed as if hardly any of the preceding stories 
 had thrown such an interest around Grandfather's 
 chair as did the fact that the poor, persecuted, wander- 
 ing Quaker woman had rested in it for a moment. 
 The children were so much excited that Grandfather 
 found it necessary to bring his account of the persecu- 
 tion to a close. 
 
 " In 1660, the same year in which Mary Dyer was 
 executed," said he, " Charles II. was restored to the 
 
THE QUAKERS AND THE INDIANS. 37 
 
 throne of his fathers. This king had many vices ; but 
 he would not permit blood to be shed, under pretence 
 of religion, in any part of his dominions. The Quak- 
 ers in England told him what had been done to their 
 brethren in Massachusetts; and he sent orders to 
 Governor Endicott to forbear all such proceedings ii> 
 future. And so ended the Quaker persecution, — one 
 of the most mournful passages in the history of our 
 forefathers." ^ 
 
 Grandfather then told his auditors, that, shortly 
 after the above incident, the great chair had been 
 given by the mint-master to the Rev. Mr. John Eliot. 
 He was the first minister of Roxbury. But besides 
 attending to the pastoral duties there, he learned the 
 lansruao'e of the red men, and often went into the 
 woods to preach to them. So earnestly did he labor 
 for their conversion that he has always been called the 
 apostle to the Indians. The mention of this holy man 
 suggested to Grandfather the propriety of giving a 
 brief sketch of the history of the Indians, so far as 
 they were connected with the English colonists. 
 
 A short period before the arrival of the first Pil- 
 grims at Plymouth there had been a very grievous 
 plague among the red men ; and the sages and minis- 
 ters of that day were inclined to the oj^inion that Prov- 
 idence had sent this mortality in order to make room 
 for the settlement of the English. But I know not 
 why we should supj)ose that an Indian's life is less 
 
 1 Hawthorne laid the scenes of one of his longer stories, The 
 Gentle Boy, in the time of the Quaker persecution, and Whit- 
 tie;* has several poems relating to the same event, such as The 
 Exilc<i. Cassandra South ivick, Hoiu the Women Went from Dover. 
 His po'jvi The King's Missive especially tells the story of the 
 close of tK« persecution. 
 
38 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 precious, in the eye of Heaven, than that of a white 
 man. Be that as it may, death had certainly been 
 very busy with the savage tribes. 
 
 In many places the English found the wigwams de- 
 serted and the cornfields growing to waste, with none 
 to harvest the grain. There were heaps of earth also, 
 which, being dug open, proved to be Indian graves, 
 containing bows and flint-headed spears and arrows ; 
 for the Indians buried the dead warrior's weapons 
 along with him. In some spots there were skulls and 
 other human bones lying unburied. In 1633, and the 
 year afterwards, the small-pox broke out among the 
 Massachusetts Indians, multitudes of whom died by 
 this terrible disease of the Old World. These mis- 
 fortunes made them far less powerful than they had 
 formerly been. 
 
 For nearly half a century after the arrival of the 
 English the red men showed themselves generally in- 
 clined to peace and amity. They often made submis- 
 sion when they might have made successful war. The 
 Plymouth settlers, led by the famous Captain Miles 
 Standish, slew some of them, in 1623, without any very 
 evident necessity for so doing. In 1636, and the fol- 
 lowing year, there was the most dreadful war that had 
 yet occurred between the Indians and the English. 
 The Connecticut settlers, assisted by a celebrated In- 
 dian chief named Uncas, bore the brunt of this war, 
 with but little aid from Massachusetts. Many hmi- 
 dreds of the hostile Indians were slain or burned in 
 their wigwams. Sassacus, their sachem, fled to an- 
 other tribe, after his own people were defeated ; but 
 he was murdered by them, and his head was sent to 
 his English enemies. 
 
 From that period down to the time of King Philij^'s 
 
THE QUAKERS AND THE INDIANS. 39 
 
 War, which will be mentioned hereafter, there was not 
 much trouble with the Indians. But the colonists were 
 always on their guard, and kept their weapons ready 
 for the conflict. 
 
 " I have sometimes doubted," said Grandfather, 
 when he had told these things to the children, — " I 
 have sometimes doubted whether there was more than 
 a single man among our forefathers who realized that 
 an Indian possesses a mind, and a heart, and an im- 
 mortal soul. That single man was John Eliot. All 
 the rest of the early settlers seemed to think that the 
 Indians were an inferior race of beings, whom the 
 Creator had merely allowed to keep possession of this 
 beautiful country till the white men should be in want 
 of it." 
 
 " Did the pious men of those days never try to 
 make Christians of them ? " asked Laurence. 
 
 " Sometimes, it is true," answered Grandfather, 
 *' the magistrates and ministers would talk about civi- 
 lizing and converting the red people. But, at the bot- 
 tom of their hearts, they would have had almost as 
 much expectation of civilizing the wuld bear of the 
 woods and making him fit for paradise. They felt no 
 faith in the success of any such attempts, because they 
 had no love for the poor Indians. Now, Eliot was 
 full of love for them ; and therefore so full of faith 
 3,nd hope that he spent the labor of a lifetime in their 
 behalf." 
 
 " I would have conquered them first, and then con- 
 verted them," said Charley. 
 
 " Ah, Charley, there spoke the very spirit of our 
 forefathers ! " replied Grandfather. " But Mr. Eliot 
 had a better spirit. He looked upon them as liis 
 brethren. He persuaded as many of them as he could 
 
40 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 to leave off their idle and wandering habits, and to 
 build houses and cultivate the earth, as the English 
 did. He established schools among them and taught 
 many of the Indians how to read. He taught them, 
 likewise, how to pray. Hence they were called ' pray- 
 ing Indians.' Finally, having spent the best years 
 of his life for their good, Mr. Eliot resolved to spend 
 the remainder in doing them a yet greater benefit." 
 
 " I know what that was ! " cried Laurence. 
 
 " He sat down in his study," continued Grandfather, 
 " and began a translation of the Bible into the Indian 
 tongue. It was while he was engaged in this pious 
 work that the mint-master gave him our great chair. 
 His toil needed it and deserved it." 
 
 "O Grandfather, tell us all about that Indian 
 Bible ! " exclaimed Laurence. " I have seen it in the 
 library of the Athenaeum ; and the tears came into my 
 eyes to think that there were no Indians left to read 
 it." 
 
CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 THE INDIAN BIBLE. 
 
 As Grandfather was a great admirer of the apostle 
 Eliot, he was glad to comply with the earnest request 
 which Laurence had made at the close of the last 
 chapter. So he proceeded to describe how good Mr. 
 Eliot labored, while he was at work upon the Indian 
 Bible. 
 
 My dear children, what a task would you think it, 
 even with a long lifetime before you, were you bidden 
 to copy every chapter, and verse, and word, in yonder 
 family Bible ! Would not this be a heavy toil ? But 
 if the task were, not to write off the English Bible, but 
 to learn a language utterly unlike all other tongues, 
 — a lano^uao^e which hitherto had never been learned, 
 except by the Indians themselves, from their mothers' 
 lips, — a language never written, and the strange 
 words of which seemed inexpressible by letters, — if 
 the task were, first to learn this new variety of speech, 
 and then to translate the Bible into it, and to do it so 
 carefully that not one idea throughout the holy book 
 should be changed, — what would induce you to un- 
 dertake this toil ? Yet this was what the apostle Eliot 
 did. 
 
 It was a mighty work for a man, now growing old, 
 to take upon himself. And what earthly reward could 
 he expect from it ? None ; no reward on earth. But 
 he believed that the red men were the descendants of 
 
42 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 those lost tribes of Israel of whom history has been 
 able to tell us nothing for thousands of years. He 
 hoped that God had sent the English across the ocean, 
 Gentiles as they were, to enlighten this benighted por- 
 tion of his once chosen race. And when he should be 
 summoned hence, he trusted to meet blessed spirits 
 in another world, whose bliss would have been earned 
 by his patient toil in translating the word of God. 
 This hope and trust were far dearer to him than any- 
 thing that earth could offer. 
 
 Sometimes, while thus at work, he was visited by 
 learned men, who desired to know what literary un- 
 dertaking Mr. Eliot had in hand. They, like him- 
 self, had been bred in the studious cloisters of a uni- 
 versity, and were supposed to possess all the erudition 
 which mankind has hoarded up from age to age. 
 Greek and Latin were as familiar to them as the bab- 
 ble of their childhood. Hebrew was like their mother 
 tongue. They had grown gray in study ; their eyes 
 were bleared with poring over print and manuscript 
 by the light of the midnight lamp. 
 
 And yet, how much had they left unlearned ! Mr. 
 Eliot would put into their hands some of the pages 
 which he had been writing ; and behold I the gray- 
 headed men stammered over the long, strange words, 
 like a little child in his first attempts to read. Then 
 Would the ajDostle call to him an Indian boy, one of 
 his scholars, and show him the manuscript which had 
 so- puzzled the learned Englishmen. 
 
 " Read this, my child," would he say ; " these are 
 some brethren of mine, who would fain hear the sound 
 of thy native tongue." 
 
 Then would the Indian boy cast his eyes over the 
 mysterious page, and read it so skilfully that it 
 
THE INDIAN BIBLE. 43 
 
 sounded like wild music. It seemed as i£ the forest 
 leaves were singing in the ears of his auditors, and as 
 if the roar of distant streams were poured through 
 the young Indian's voice. Such were the sounds amid 
 which the language of the red man had been formed ; 
 and they were still heard to echo in it. 
 
 The lesson being over, Mr. Eliot would give the In- 
 dian boy an apple or a cake, and bid him leap forth 
 into the open air which his free nature loved. The 
 apostle was kind to children, and even shared in their 
 sports sometimes. And when his visitors had bidden 
 him farewell, the good man turned patiently to his 
 toil again. 
 
 No other Englishman had ever understood the In- 
 dian character so well, nor possessed so great an influ- 
 ence over the New England tribes, as the apostle did. 
 His advice and assistance must often have been valu- 
 able to his countrymen in their transactions with the 
 Indians. Occasionally, perhaps, the governor and 
 some of the councillors came to visit Mr. Eliot. Per- 
 chance they were seeking some method to circumvent 
 the forest people. They inquired, it may be, how they 
 could obtain possession of such and such a tract of 
 their rich land. Or they talked of making the Indians 
 their servants ; as if God had destined them for per- 
 petual bondage to the more powerful white man. 
 
 Perhaps, too, some warlike captain, dressed in his 
 buff coat, with a corselet beneath it, accompanied the 
 governor and councillors. Laying his hand upon his 
 sword hilt, he would declare that the only method of 
 dealing with the red men was to meet them with the 
 sword drawn and the musket presented. 
 
 But the apostle resisted both the craft of the politi- 
 cian and the fierceness of the warrior. 
 
44 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " Treat these sons of the forest as men and breth- 
 ren," he would say ; " and let us endeavor to make 
 them Christians. Their forefathers were of that 
 chosen race whom God delivered from Egyptian bond- 
 age. Perchance he has destined us to deliver the chil- 
 dren from the more cruel bondage of ignorance and 
 idolatry. Chiefly for this end, it may be, we were 
 directed across the ocean." 
 
 When these other visitors were gone, Mr. Eliot 
 bent himself again over the half-written page. He 
 dared hardly relax a moment from his toil. He felt 
 that, in the book which he was translating, there was 
 a deep human as well as heavenly wisdom, which 
 would of itself suffice to civilize and refine the savage 
 tribes. Let the Bible be diffused among them, and 
 all earthly good would follow. But how slight a con- 
 sideration was this, when he reflected that the eternal 
 welfare of a whole race of men depended upon his 
 accomplishment of the task which he had set himself ! 
 What if his hands should be palsied ? What if his 
 mind should lose its vigor? What if death should 
 come upon him ere the work were done ? Then must 
 the red man wander in the dark wilderness of hea- 
 thenism forever. 
 
 Impelled by such thoughts as these, he sat writing 
 in the great chair when the pleasant summer breeze 
 came in through his open casement ; and also when 
 the fire of forest logs sent up its blaze and smoke, 
 through the broad stone chimney, into the wintry air. 
 Before the earliest bird sang in the morning the apos- 
 tle's lamp was kindled ; and, at midnight, his weary 
 head was not yet upon its pillow. And at length, 
 leaning back in the great chair, he could say to him« 
 self, with a holy triumph, " The work is finished ! " 
 
umnmmmimnmmm mmi H 
 
 •>€ — 9*© 
 
 •>€ 
 «»€ 
 •>€ 
 •>€ 
 •X) 
 «»^ 
 «>€ 
 
 wunnteetupanatamwe 
 
 UP-BIBLUM GOD 
 
 •>« 
 
 •>€ 
 
 «>^ 
 •>« 
 
 •>« 
 
 •>6 
 
 «>€ 
 
 •>« 
 
 •>« 
 
 •>€ 
 •>« 
 •>€ 
 •>6 
 
 •>6 
 
 •>^ 
 
 NUKKONE TESTAMENT 
 
 KAH WONK 
 
 WUSKU TESTAMENT. 
 
 Ne qaofhkinnumok naftipe ^*'^uuinneumoh [HKlSl 
 noh afoowciit 
 
 JOHN ELIOT 
 
 Printeuoopuafhpe Stmucl Crttn k^h M<*rmiului\f 'John fen. 
 1 6 6 I, 
 
 3<* 
 »<• 
 9<» 
 
 
 9<« 
 
 nsinissnis^isinnsinnHnii^nisis 
 
 FACSIMILE, SLIGHTLY REDUCED, OF THE TITLE-PAGE OF 
 ELIOT's INDIAN BIBLE 
 
 Translated by the apostle John Eliot. The first edition was printed at Cambridjce 
 in 1663, the type being set in part by "praying Indians." The dialect is thar 
 of the Natick tribe. 
 
THE INDIAN BIBLE. 45 
 
 It was finished. Here was a Bible for the Indians. 
 Those long-lost descendants of the ten tribes of Israel 
 would now learn the history of their forefathers. That 
 grace which the ancient Israelites had forfeited was 
 offered anew to their children. 
 
 There is no impiety in believing that, when his long 
 life was over, the apostle of the Indians was welcomed 
 to the celestial abodes by the prophets of ancient days 
 and by those earliest apostles and evangelists who had 
 drawn their inspiration from the immediate j)resence 
 of the Saviour. They first had preached truth and 
 salvation to the world. And Eliot, separated from 
 them by many centuries, yet full of the same spirit, 
 has borne the like message to the New World of the 
 west. Since the first days of Christianity, there has 
 been no man more worthy to be numbered in the 
 brotherhood of the apostles than Eliot. 
 
 " My heart is not satisfied to think," observed Lau- 
 rence, " that Mr. Eliot's labors have done no good ex- 
 cept to a few Indians of his own time. Doubtless he 
 would not have regretted his toil, if it were the means 
 of saving but a single soul. But it is a grievous thing 
 to me that he should have toiled so hard to translate 
 the Bible, and now the language and the people are 
 gone ! The Indian Bible itself is almost the only relic 
 of both." 
 
 " Laurence," said his Grandfather, " if ever you 
 shoidd doubt that man is capable of disinterested zeal 
 for his brother's good, then remember how the apostle 
 Eliot toiled. And if you should feel your own self- 
 interest pressing upon your heart too closely, then 
 think of Eliot's Indian Bible. It is good for the 
 world that such a man has lived and left this emblem 
 of his life." 
 
46 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 The tears gushed into the eyes of Laurence, and he 
 acknowledged that Eliot had not toiled in vain. Lit- 
 tle Alice put up her arms to Grandfather, and drew 
 down his white head beside her own golden locks. 
 
 " Grandfather," whispered she, " I want to kiss 
 good Mr. Eliot!" 
 
 And, doubtless, good Mr. Eliot would gladly receive 
 the kiss of so sweet a child as little Alice, and would 
 think it a portion of his reward in heaven. 
 
 Grandfather now observed that Dr. Francis had 
 written a very beautiful Life of Eliot, which he ad- 
 vised Laurence to peruse. He then spoke of King 
 Philip's War, which began in 1675, and terminated 
 with the death of King Philip, in the following year. 
 Philip was a proud, fierce Indian, whom Mr. Eliot 
 had vainly endeavored to convert to the Christian 
 faith. 
 
 " It must have been a great anguish to the apostle," 
 continued Grandfather, '' to hear of mutual slaughter 
 and outrage between his own countrymen and those 
 for whom he felt the affection of a father. A few 
 of the praying Indians joined the followers of King 
 Philip. A greater number fought on the side of the 
 English. In the course of the war the little commu- 
 nity of red people whom Mr. Eliot had begun to civ- 
 ilize was scattered, and probably never was restored 
 to a flourishing condition. But his zeal did not grow 
 cold ; and only about five years before his death he 
 took great pains in preparing a new edition of the In- 
 dian Bible." 
 
 "I do wish. Grandfather," cried Charley, "you 
 would tell us all about the battles in King Philip's 
 War." 
 
 " Oh no ! " exclaimed Clara. " Who wants to hear 
 about tomahawks and scalping knives ? " 
 
THE INDIAN BIBLE. 47 
 
 " No, Charley," ref)lied Grandfather, " I have no 
 time to spare in talking about battles. You must be 
 content with knowing that it was the bloodiest war 
 that the Indians had ever waged against the white 
 men ; and that, at its close, the English set King 
 Philip's head upon a pole." 
 
 "Who was the captain of the English?" asked 
 Charley. 
 
 " Their most noted captain was Benjamin Church, 
 — a very famous warrior," said Grandfather. " But 
 I assure you, Charley, that neither Captain Church, 
 nor any of the officers and soldiers who fought in 
 King Philip's War, did anything a thousandth part 
 so glorious as Mr. Eliot did when he translated the 
 Bible for the Indians." 
 
 "Let Laurence be the apostle," said Charley to 
 himself, " and I wiU be the captain." ^ 
 
 1 That the readers of this book may know something more 
 of the apostle Eliot, we have copied some accounts of his life 
 from the biography by Dr. Convers Francis, to which Hawthorne 
 refers. The narrative will be found at page 66 of this book. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 The children were now accustomed to assemble 
 round Grandfather's chair at all their unoccupied mo- 
 ments ; and often it was a striking picture to behold 
 the white-headed old sire, with this flowery wreath of 
 young people around him. When he talked to them, 
 it was the past speaking to the present, or rather to 
 the future, — for the children were of a generation 
 which had not become actual. Their part in life, thus 
 far, was only to be happy and to draw knowledge from 
 a thousand sources. As yet, it was not their time 
 to do. 
 
 Sometimes, as Grandfather gazed at their fair, un- 
 worldly countenances, a mist of tears bedimmed his 
 spectacles. He almost regretted that it was necessary 
 for them to know anything of the past or to provide 
 aught for the future. He could have wished that they 
 might be always the happy, youthful creatures who 
 had hitherto sported around his chair, without inquir- 
 ing whether it had a history. It grieved him to think 
 that his little Alice, who was a flower bud fresh from 
 paradise, must open her leaves to the rough breezes of 
 the world, or ever open them in any clime. So sweet 
 a child she was, that it seemed fit her infancy should 
 be immortal. 
 
 But such repinings were merely flitting shadows 
 across the old man's heart. He had faith enough to 
 
ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 49 
 
 believe, and wisdom enough to know, that the bloom 
 of the flower would be even holier and haj^pier than 
 its bud. Even within himself, though Grandfather 
 was now at that period of life when the veil of mor- 
 tality is apt to hang heavily over the soul, still, in 
 his inmost being he was conscious of something that 
 he would not have exchanged for the best happiness 
 of childhood. It was a bliss to which every sort of 
 earthly experience — all that he had enjoyed, or suf- 
 fered, or seen, or heard, or acted, with the broodings 
 of his soul upon the whole — had contributed some- 
 what. In the same manner must a bliss, of which 
 now they could have no conception, grow up within 
 these children, and form a part of their sustenance 
 for Immortality. 
 
 So Grandfather, with renewed cheerfulness, contin- 
 ued his history of the chair, trusting that a profounder 
 wisdom than his own would extract, from these flowers 
 and weeds of Time, a fragrance that might last beyond 
 all time. 
 
 At this period of the story Grandfather threw a 
 glance backward as far as the year 16G0. He spoke 
 of the ill-concealed reluctance with which the Puritans 
 in America had acknowledged the sway of Charles II. 
 on his restoration to his father's throne. AYhen death 
 had stricken Oliver Cromwell, that mighty protector 
 had no sincerer mourners than in New Encrland. The 
 new king had been more than a year upon the throne 
 before his accession was proclaimed in Boston, although 
 the neglect to perform the ceremony might have sub- 
 jected the rulers to the charge of treason. 
 
 During the reign of Charles II., however, the 
 American colonies had but little reason to complain 
 of harsh or tyrannical treatment. But when Charles 
 
50 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 died, in 1685, and was succeeded by his brother 
 James, the patriarchs of New England began to trem- 
 ble. King James was known to be of an arbitrary- 
 temper. It was feared by the Puritans that he would 
 assume despotic power. Our forefathers felt that 
 they had no security either for their religion or their 
 liberties. 
 
 The result proved that they had reason for their ap- 
 prehensions. King James caused the charters of all 
 the American colonies to be taken away. The old 
 charter of Massachusetts, which the people regarded 
 as a holy thing and as the foundation of all their lib- 
 erties, was declared void. The colonists were now no 
 longer freemen ; they were entirely dependent on the 
 king's pleasure. At first, in 1685, King James ap- 
 pointed Joseph Dudley, a native of Massachusetts, to 
 be president of New England. But soon afterwards, 
 Sir Edmund Andros, an officer of the English army, 
 arrived, with a commission to be governor-general of 
 New England and New York. 
 
 The king had given such powers to Sir Edmund 
 Andros that there was now no liberty, nor scarcely 
 any law, in the colonies over which he ruled. The 
 inhabitants were not allowed to choose representa- 
 tives, and consequently had no voice whatever in the 
 government, nor control over the measures that were 
 ado]3ted. The councillors with whom the governor 
 consulted on matters of state were appointed by him- 
 self. This sort of government was no better than an 
 absolute despotism. 
 
 "The people suffered much wrong while Sir Ed- 
 mund Andros ruled over them," continued Grand- 
 father ; " and they were apprehensive of much more. 
 He had brought some soldiers with him from Eng- 
 
ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 51 
 
 land, who took possession of the old fortress on Castle 
 Island and of the fortification on Fort Hill. Some- 
 times it was rumored that a general massacre of the 
 inhabitants was to be perpetrated by these soldiers. 
 There were reports, too, that all the ministers were to 
 be slain or imprisoned." 
 
 *' For what? " inquired Charley. 
 
 " Because they were the leaders of the people, 
 Charley," said Grandfather. " A minister w^as a 
 more formidable man than a general, in those days. 
 Well, while these things were going on in America, 
 King James had so misgoverned the people of Eng- 
 land that they sent over to Holland for the Prince 
 of Orange. He had married the king's daughter, 
 and was therefore considered to have a claim to 
 the crown. On his arrival in England, the Prince 
 of Orange was proclaimed king, by the name of 
 William III. Poor old King James made his escape 
 to France." 
 
 Grandfather told how, at the first intelligence of the 
 landing of the Prince of Orange in England, the peo- 
 ple of Massachusetts rose in their strength and over- 
 threw the government of Sir Edmund Andros. He, 
 with Joseph Dudley, Edmund Randolph, and his other 
 principal adherents, was thrown into prison. Old 
 Simon Bradstreet, who had been governor when King 
 James took away the charter, was called by the people 
 to govern them again. 
 
 "Governor Bradstreet was a venerable old man, 
 nearly ninety years of age," said Grandfather. " He 
 came over with the first settlers, and had been the in- 
 timate companion of all those excellent and famous 
 men who laid the foundation of our country. They 
 were all gone before him to the grave, and Bradstreet 
 was the last of the Puritans." 
 
52 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Grandfather paused a moment and smiled, as i£ lie 
 had something very interesting to tell his auditors. 
 He then j^roceeded ; — 
 
 " And now, Laurence, — now, Clara, — now, Char- 
 ley, — now, my dear little Alice, — what chair do 
 you think had been placed in the council chamber, 
 for old Governor Bradstreet to take his seat in? 
 Would you believe that it was this very chair in 
 which Grandfather now sits, and of which he is tell- 
 ing you the history? " 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, with all my heart ! " cried 
 Charley, after a shout of delight. " I thought Grand- 
 father had quite forgotten the chair." 
 
 " It was a solemn and affecting sight," said Grand- 
 father, " when this venerable patriarch, with his white 
 beard flowing down upon his breast, took his seat in 
 his chair of state. Within his remembrance, and even 
 since his mature age, the site where now stood the 
 populous town had been a wild and forest-covered 
 peninsula. The province, now so fertile and spotted 
 with thriving villages, had been a desert wilderness. 
 He was surrounded by a shouting multitude, most of 
 whom had been born in the country which he had 
 helped to found. They were of one generation, and 
 he of another. As the old man looked upon them, 
 and beheld new faces everywhere, he must have felt 
 that it was now time for him to go whither his breth' 
 ren had gone before him." 
 
 " Were the former governors all dead and gone ? " 
 asked Laurence. 
 
 " All of them," replied Grandfather. " Winthroj) 
 had been dead forty years. Endicott died, a very old 
 man, in 1665. Sir Henry Vane was beheaded, in 
 London, at the beginning of the reign of Charles II. 
 
ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 53 
 
 And Haynes, Dudley, Bellingham, and Leverett, who 
 liad all been governors of Massachusetts, were now 
 likewise in their graves. Old Simon Bradstreet was 
 the sole representative of that dej^arted brotherhood. 
 There was no other public man remaining to connect 
 the ancient system of government and manners with 
 the new system which was about to take its place. 
 The era of the Puritans was now completed." 
 
 " I am sorry for it ! " observed Laurence ; " for 
 though they were so stern, yet it seems to me that 
 there was something warm -and real about them. I 
 think, Grandfather, that each of these old governors 
 should have his statue set up in our State House, 
 sculptured out of the hardest of New England gran- 
 ite." 
 
 " It woidd not be amiss, Laurence," said Grand- 
 father ; " but perhaps clay, or some other perishable 
 material, might suffice for some of their successors. 
 But let us go back to our chair. It was occupied by 
 Governor Bradstreet from April, 1689, until May, 
 1692. Sir William Phips then arrived in Boston with 
 a new charter from King William and a commission 
 to be governor." ^ 
 
 ^ Hawthorne's story of The Gray Champion belongs to this 
 period. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 
 
 " And what became of the chair ? " inquired Clara. 
 
 " The outward aspect of our chair," replied Grand- 
 father, " was now somewhat the worse for its long and 
 arduous services. It was considered hardly magnifi- 
 cent enough to be allowed to keep its place in the 
 council chamber of Massachusetts. In fact, it was 
 banished as an article of useless lumber. But Sir 
 William Phips happened to see it, and, being much 
 pleased with its construction, resolved to take the good 
 old chair into his private mansion. Accordingly, with 
 his own gubernatorial hands, he repaired one of its 
 arms, which had been slightly damaged." 
 
 " Why, Grandfather, here is the very arm ! " inter- 
 rupted Charley, in great wonderment. " And did Sir 
 William Phips put in these screws with his own 
 hands ? I am sure he did it beautifully ! But how 
 came a governor to know how to mend a chair ? " 
 
 " I will tell you a story about the early life of Sir 
 William Phips," said Grandfather. ^' You will then 
 perceive that he well knew how to use his hands." 
 
 So Grandfather related the wonderful and true tale 
 of the sunken treasure. 
 
 Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a hand- 
 some, old-fashioned room, with a large, open cupboard 
 at one end, in which is displayed a magnificent gold 
 cup, with some other splendid articles of gold and 
 
THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 65 
 
 silver plate. In another part of the room, opposite to 
 a tall looking-glass, stands our beloved chair, newly 
 polished, and adorned with a gorgeous cushion of 
 crimson velvet tufted with gold. 
 
 In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy frame, 
 whose face has been roughened by northern tempests 
 and blackened by the burning sun of the AYest Indies, 
 lie wears an immense periwig, flowing down over his 
 shoulders. His coat has a wide embroidery of golden 
 foliage ; and his waistcoat, likewise, is all flowered over 
 and bedizened with gold. His red, rough hands, which 
 have done many a good day's work with the hammer 
 and adze, are half covered by the delicate lace ruffles 
 at his wrists. On a table lies his silver-hilted sword ; 
 and in a corner of the room stands his gold-headed 
 cane, made of a beautifully polished West India wood. 
 Somewhat such an asj^ect as this did Sir William 
 Phips present when he sat in Grandfather's chair 
 after the king had aj^pointed him governor of Massa^ 
 chusetts. Truly there was need that the old chair 
 should be varnished and decorated with a crimson 
 cushion, in order to make it suitable for such a mag- 
 nificent-looking personage. 
 
 But Sir William Phips had not always worn a 
 gold-embroidered coat, nor always sat so much at his 
 ease as he did in Grandfather's chair. He was a poor 
 man's son, and was born in the province of Maine, 
 where he used to tend sheep upon the hills in his boy- 
 hood and youth. Until he had grown to be a man, he 
 did not even know how to read and write. Tired of 
 tending sheep, he next apprenticed himself to a ship- 
 carpenter, and spent about four years in hewing the 
 crooked limbs of oak-trees into knees for vessels. 
 In 1673, when he was twenty-two years old, he came 
 
56 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 to Boston, and soon afterwards was married to a widow 
 lady, who had property enough to set him up in Busi- 
 ness. It was not long, however, before he lost all the 
 money that he had acquired by his marriage, and be- 
 came a poor man again. Still he was not discouraged. 
 He often told his wife that, some time or other, he 
 should be very rich, and would build a '' fair brick 
 house " in the Green Lane of Boston. 
 
 Do not suppose, children, that he had been to a for- 
 tune-teller to inquire his destiny. It was his own 
 energy and spirit of enterprise, and his resolution to 
 lead an industrious life, that made him look forward 
 with so much confidence to better days. 
 
 Several years passed away, and William Phips had 
 not yet gained the riches which he promised to himself. 
 During this time he had begun to follow the sea for a 
 living. In the year 1684 he happened to hear of a 
 Spanish ship which had been cast away near the Ba- 
 hama Islands, and which was supposed to contain a 
 great deal of gold and silver. Phips went to the 
 place in a small vessel, hoping that he should be able 
 to recover some of the treasure from the wreck. He 
 did not succeed, however, in fishing up gold and silver 
 enough to pay the expenses of his voyage. 
 
 But, before he returned, he was told of another 
 Spanish ship, or galleon, which had been cast away 
 near Porto de la Plata. She had now lain as much 
 as fifty years beneath the waves. This old ship had 
 been laden with immense wealth ; and, hitherto, no- 
 body had thought of the possibility of recovering any 
 part of it from the deep sea which was rolling and 
 tossing it about. But though it was now an old story, 
 and the most aged people had almost forgotten that 
 such a vessel had been wrecked, William Phips re- 
 
THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 57 
 
 solved that the sunken treasure should again be brought 
 to light. 
 
 He went to London and obtained admittance to 
 King James, who had not yet been driven from his 
 throne. He told the king of the vast wealth that was 
 lying at the bottom of the sea. King James listened 
 with attention, and thought this a fine opportunity to 
 fill his treasury with Spanish gold. He appointed 
 William Phips to be captain of a vessel, called the 
 Rose Algier, carrying eighteen guns and ninety-five 
 men. So now he was Captain Phips of the English 
 navy. 
 
 Captain Phips sailed from England in the Rose 
 Algier, and cruised for nearly two years in the West 
 Indies, endeavoring to find the wreck of the Spanish 
 ship. But the sea is so wide and deep that it is no 
 easy matter to discover the exact spot where a sunken 
 vessel lies. The prospect of success seemed very small ; 
 and most people would have thought that Captain 
 Phips was as far from having money enough to build 
 a " fair brick house " as he was while he tended sheep. 
 
 The seamen of the Rose Algier became discouraged, 
 and gave up all hope of making their fortunes by dis- 
 covering the Spanish wreck. They wanted to compel 
 Captain Phips to turn pirate. There was a much 
 better prospect, they thought, of growing rich by plun- 
 dering vessels which still sailed in the sea than by 
 seeking for a ship that had lain beneath the waves 
 full half a century. They broke out in open mutiny ; 
 but were finally mastered by Phips, and compelled to 
 obey his orders. It would have been dangerous, how- 
 ever, to continue much longer at sea with such a crew 
 of mutinous sailors ; and, besides, the Rose Algier was 
 leaky and unseaworthy. So Captain Phips judged it 
 best to return to England. 
 
58 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Before leaving the West Indies, lie met with a Span- 
 iard, an old man, who remembered the wreck of the 
 Spanish ship, and gave him directions how to find the 
 very spot. It was on a reef of rocks, a few leagues 
 from Porto de la Plata. 
 
 On his arrival in England, therefore. Captain Phips 
 solicited the king to let him have another vessel and 
 send him back again to the West Indies. But King 
 James, who had probably expected that the Rose Al- 
 gier would return laden with gold, refused to have 
 anything more to do with the affair. Phips might 
 never have been able to renew the search if the Duke 
 of Albemarle and some other noblemen had not lent 
 their assistance. They fitted out a ship, and gave the 
 command to Captain Phips. He sailed from Eng- 
 land, and arrived safely at Porto de la Plata, where 
 he took an adze and assisted his men to build a large 
 boat. 
 
 The boat was intended for the purpose of going closer 
 to the reef of rocks than a large vessel could safely 
 venture. When it was finished, the captain sent sev- 
 eral men in it to examine the spot where the Spanish 
 ship was said to have been wrecked. They were ac- 
 companied by some Indians, who were skilful divers, 
 and could go down a great way into the depths of the 
 sea. 
 
 The boat's crew proceeded to the reef of rocks, and 
 rowed round and round it a great many times. They 
 gazed down into the water, which was so transparent 
 that it seemed as if they could have seen the gold and 
 silver at the bottom, had there been any of those pre- 
 cious metals there. Nothing, however, could they see ; 
 nothing more valuable than a curious sea shrub, which 
 was growing beneath the water, in a crevice of the 
 
THE SUNKEN TREASURE, 59 
 
 reef of rocks. It flaunted to and fro with the swell 
 and reflux of the waves, and looked as bright and 
 beautiful as if its leaves were gold. 
 
 *' We won't go back empty-handed," cried an Eng- 
 lish sailor ; and then he spoke to one of the Indian 
 divers. " Dive down and bring me that pretty sea 
 shrub there. That 's the only treasure we shall find." 
 
 Down plunged the diver, and soon rose dripping from 
 the water, holding the sea shrub in his hand. But he 
 had learned some news at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 " There are some ship's guns," said he, the moment 
 he had drawn breath, '' some great cannon, among the 
 rocks, near where the shrub was growing." 
 
 No sooner had he spoken than the English sailors 
 knew that they had found the very spot where the 
 Spanish galleon had been wrecked, so many years be- 
 fore. The other Indian divers immediately plunged 
 over the boat's side and swam headlong down, grop- 
 ing among the rocks and sunken cannon. In a few 
 moments one of them rose above the water with a 
 heavy lump of silver in his arms. The single lump 
 was worth more than a thousand dollars. The sailors 
 took it into the boat, and then rowed back as speedily 
 as they could, being in haste to inform Captain Phips 
 of their good luck. 
 
 But, confidently as the captain had hoped to find 
 the Spanish wreck, yet, now that it was really found, 
 the news seemed too good to be true. He could not 
 believe it till the sailors showed him the lump of 
 silver. 
 
 " Thanks be to God ! " then cries Captain Phips. 
 " We shall every man of us make our fortunes ! " 
 
 Hereupon the captain and all the crew set to work, 
 with iron rakes and great hooks and lines, fishing for 
 
60 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 gold and silver at tlie bottom of the sea. Up came 
 the treasure in abundance. Now they beheld a table 
 of solid silver, once the property of an old Spanish 
 grandee. Now they found a sacramental vessel, which 
 had been destined as a gift to some Catholic church. 
 Now they drew up a golden cup, fit for the King of 
 Spain to drink his wine out of. Perhaps the bony 
 hand of its former owner had been grasping the pre- 
 cious cup, and was drawn up along with it. Now their 
 rakes or fishing-lines were loaded with masses of silver 
 bullion. There were also precious stones among the 
 treasure, glittering and sparkling, so that it is a won- 
 der how their radiance could have been concealed. 
 
 There is something sad and terrible in the idea of 
 snatching all this wealth from the devouring ocean, 
 which had possessed it for such a length of years. It 
 seems as if men had no right to make themselves rich 
 with it. It ought to have been left with the skeletons 
 of the ancient Spaniards, who had been drowned when 
 the ship was wrecked, and whose bones were now scat- 
 tered among the gold and silver. 
 
 But Captain Phips and his crew were troubled 
 with no such thoughts as these. After a day or two 
 they lighted on another part of the wreck, where they 
 found a great many bags of silver dollars. But nobody 
 could have guessed that these were money-bags. By 
 remaining so long in the salt water, they had become 
 covered over with a crust which had the appearance of 
 stone, so that it was necessary to break them in pieces 
 with hammers and axes. When this was done, a 
 stream of silver dollars gushed out upon the deck of 
 the vessel. 
 
 The whole value of the recovered treasure, plate, 
 bullion, precious stones, and all, was estimated at more 
 
THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 61 
 
 than two millions of dollars. It was dangerous even 
 to look at such a vast amount of wealth. A sea-cap- 
 tain, wlio had assisted Phips in the enterprise, utterly 
 lost his reason at the sight of it. He died two years 
 afterwards, still raving about the treasures that lie at 
 the bottom of the sea. It would have been better for 
 this man if he had left the skeletons of the shipwrecked 
 Spaniards in quiet possession of their wealth. 
 
 Captain Phips and his men continued to fish up 
 plate, bullion, and dollars, as plentifully as ever, till 
 their provisions grew short. Then, as they could not 
 feed upon gold and silver any more than old King 
 Midas could, they found it necessary to go in search 
 of better sustenance. PhijDS resolved to return to 
 England. He arrived there in 1687, and was received 
 with great joy by the Duke of Albemarle and other 
 English lords who had fitted out the vessel. Well 
 they might rejoice ; for they took by far the greater 
 part of the treasure to themselves. 
 
 The captain's share, however, was enough to make 
 him comfortable for the rest of his days. It also ena- 
 bled him to fulfil his promise to his wife, by build- 
 ing a " fair brick house " in the Green Lane of Boston. 
 The Duke of Albemarle sent Mrs. Phips a magnifi- 
 cent gold cup, worth at least five thousand dollars. 
 Before Captain Phips left London, King James made 
 him a knight ; so that, instead of the obscure shij)- 
 carpenter who had formerly dwelt among them, the 
 inhabitants of Boston welcomed him on his return as 
 the rich and famous Sir William Phips. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN. 
 
 " Sir William Phips," continued Grandfather, 
 " was too active and adventurous a man to sit still in 
 tlie quiet enjoyment of his good fortune. In the year 
 1690 he went on a military expedition against the 
 French colonies in America, conquered the whole prov- 
 ince of Acadia, and returned to Boston with a great 
 deal of plunder." 
 
 " Why, Grandfather, he was the greatest man that 
 ever sat in the chair ! " cried Charley. 
 
 " Ask Laurence what he thinks," replied Grand- 
 father, with a smile. " Well, in the same year. Sir 
 William took command of an ex^Dedition against Que- 
 bec, but did not succeed in capturing the city. In 
 1692, being then in London, King William III. ap- 
 pointed him governor of Massachusetts. And now, 
 my dear children, having followed Sir William Phips 
 through all his adventures and hardships till we find 
 him comfortably seated in Grandfather's chair, we will 
 here bid him farewell. May he be as happy in ruling 
 a people as he was while he tended sheep ! " 
 
 Charley, whose fancy had been greatly taken by the 
 adventurous disposition of Sir William Phips, was 
 eager to know how he had acted and what happened 
 to him while he held the office of governor. But 
 Grandfather had made up his mind to tell no more 
 stories for the present. 
 
WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN. 63 
 
 " Possibly, one of these days, I may go on with the 
 adventures of the chair," said he. "But its history 
 becomes very obscure just at this point ; and I must 
 search into some old books and manuscripts before 
 proceeding further. Besides, it is now a good time 
 to pause in our narrative ; because the new charter, 
 which Sir William Phips brought over from England, 
 formed a very important epoch in the history of the 
 province." 
 
 " Really, Grandfather," observed Laurence, " this 
 seems to be the most remarkable chair in the world. 
 Its history cannot be told without intertwining it with 
 the lives of distinguished men and the great events 
 that have befallen the country." 
 
 " True, Laurence," replied Grandfather, smiling ; 
 " we must write a book with some such title as this : 
 Memoirs of my owts^ Times, by Grandfather's 
 Chair." 
 
 " That would be beautiful ! " exclaimed Laurence, 
 clapping his hands. 
 
 " But, after all," continued Grandfather, " any other 
 old chair, if it possessed memory and a hand to write 
 its recollections, could record stranger stories than any 
 that I have told you. From generation to generation, 
 a chair sits familiarly in the midst of human interests, 
 and is witness to the most secret and confidential in- 
 tercourse that mortal man can hold with his fellow. 
 The human heart may best be read in the fireside 
 chair. And as to external events. Grief and Joy keep 
 a continual vicissitude around it and within it. Now 
 we see the glad face and glowing form of Joy, sitting 
 merrily in the old chair, and throwing a warm fire- 
 light radiance over all the household. Now, while we 
 thought not of it, the dark-clad mourner. Grief, has 
 stolen into the place of Jov, but not to retain it loner. 
 
64 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 The imagination can hardly grasp so wide a subject 
 as is embraced in the experience of a family chair." 
 
 *' It makes my breath flutter, my heart thrill, to 
 think of it," said Laurence. "Yes, a family chair 
 must have a deeper history than a chair of state." 
 
 " Oh yes I " cried Clara, expressing a woman's feel- 
 ing of the point in question ; " the history of a coun- 
 try is not nearly so interesting as that of a single 
 family would be." 
 
 " But the history of a country is more easily told," 
 said Grandfather. " So, if we proceed with our narra- 
 tive of the chair, I shall still confine myself to its con- 
 nection with public events." 
 
 Good old Grandfather now rose and quitted the 
 room, while the children remained gazing at the chair. 
 Laurence, so vivid was his conception of past times, 
 would hardly have deemed it strange if its former oc- 
 cupants, one after another, had resumed the seat which 
 they had each left vacant such a dim length of years 
 ago. 
 
 First, the gentle and lovely Lady Arbella would 
 have been seen in the old chair, almost sinking out of 
 its arms for very weakness ; then Roger Williams, in 
 his cloak and band, earnest, energetic, and benevo- 
 lent ; then the figure of Anne Hutchinson, with the 
 like gesture as when she presided at the assemblages 
 of women ; then the dark, intellectual face of Vane, 
 "young in years, but in sage counsel old." Next 
 would have appeared the successive governors, Win- 
 throp, Dudley, Bellingham, and Endicott, who sat in 
 the chair while it was a chair of state. Then its 
 ample seat would have been pressed by the comfor- 
 table, rotund corporation of the honest mint-master. 
 Then the half-frenzied shape of Mary Dyer, the per- 
 secuted Quaker woman, clad in sackcloth and ashes. 
 
WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN. 65 
 
 would have rested in it for a moment. Then the holy, 
 apostolic form of Eliot would have sanctified it. Then 
 would have arisen, like the shade of departed Puritan- 
 ism, the venerable dignity of the white-bearded Gov- 
 ernor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the gorgeous crimson 
 cushion of Grandfather's chair would have shone the 
 purple and golden magnificence of Sir William Phips. 
 
 But all these, with the other historic personages, in 
 the midst of whom the chair had so often stood, had 
 passed, both in substance and shadow, from the scene 
 of ages. Yet here stood the chair, with the old Lin- 
 coln coat of arms, and the oaken flowers and foliage, 
 and the fierce lion's head at the summit, the whole, 
 apparently, in as perfect preservation as when it had 
 first been placed in the Earl of Lincoln's hall. And 
 what vast changes of society and of nations had been 
 wrought by sudden convulsions or by slow degrees 
 since that era ! 
 
 '' This chair had stood firm wdien the thrones of 
 kings were overturned ! " thought Laurence. " Its 
 oaken frame has proved stronger than many frames of 
 government ! " 
 
 More the thoughtful and imaginative boy might 
 have mused ; but now a large yellow cat, a great 
 favorite with all the children, leaped in at the open 
 window. Perceiving: that Grandfather's chair was 
 empty, and having often before experienced its com- 
 forts, puss laid herself quietly down upon the cushion. 
 Laurence, Clara, Charley, and little Alice all laughed 
 at the idea of such a successor to the worthies of old 
 times. 
 
 " Pussy," said little Alice, putting out her hand, 
 into which the cat laid a velvet paw, '' you look very 
 wise. Do tell us a story about Gkandfatker's 
 Chair ! " 
 
APPENDIX TO PART I. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE LIFE OF JOHN ELIOT. 
 
 BY CONVERS FRANCIS. 
 
 Mr. Eliot had been for some time assiduously em- 
 ployed in learning the Indian language. To accom- 
 plish this, he secured the assistance of one of the na- 
 tives, who could speak English. Eliot, at the close of 
 his Indian Grammar, mentions him as " a pregnant- 
 witted young man, who had been a servant in an Eng- 
 lish house, who pretty well understood his own lan- 
 guage, and had a clear pronunciation." He took this 
 Indian into his family, and by constant intercourse 
 with him soon become sufficiently conversant with the 
 vocabulary and construction of the language to trans- 
 late the ten commandments, the Lord's prayer, and 
 several passages of Scripture, besides composing ex- 
 hortations and prayers. 
 
 Mr. Eliot must have found his task anything but 
 easy or inviting. He was to learn a dialect, in which 
 he could be assisted by no affinity with the languages 
 he already knew. He was to do this without the help 
 of any written or printed specimens, with nothing in 
 the shape of a grammar or analysis, but merely by 
 oral communication with his Indian instructor, or with 
 other natives, who, however comparatively intelligent, 
 must from the nature of the case have been very im- 
 perfect teachers. He applied himself to the work 
 with great patience and sagacity, carefuUy noting the 
 
APPENDIX TO PART I. 67 
 
 differences between the Indian and the English modes 
 of constructing words ; and, having once got a clew to 
 this, he pursued every noun and verb he could think 
 of through all possible variations. In this way he ar- 
 rived at analyses and rules, which he could apply for 
 himself in a general manner. 
 
 Neal says that Eliot was able to speak the lan- 
 guage intelligibly after conversing with the Indian 
 servant a feio months. This, in a limited sense, may 
 be true ; but he is said to have been engaged two 
 years in the process of learning, before he went to 
 preach to the Indians. In that time he acquired a 
 somewhat ready facility in the use of that dialect, by 
 means of which he was to carry the instructions of 
 spiritual truth to the men of the forest, though as late 
 as 1649 he still lamented his want of skill in this re- 
 spect. 
 
 Notice having been given of his intention [of in- 
 structing the Indians], Mr. Eliot, in company with 
 three others, whose names are not mentioned, having 
 implored the divine blessing on the undertaking, made 
 his first visit to the Indians on the 28th of October, 
 1646, at a place afterwards called Nonantum ; a spot 
 that has the honor of being the first on which a civil- 
 ized and Christian settlement of Indians was effected 
 within the English colonies of North America. This 
 name was given to the high grounds in the north-east 
 ]>art of Newton, and to the bounds of that town and 
 Watertown. At a short distance from the wigwams, 
 they were met by Waban, a leading man among the 
 Indians at that place, accompanied by others, and 
 were welcomed with " English salutations." Waban, 
 who is described as " the chief minister of justice 
 among them," had before shown a better disposition 
 
68 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 than any other native to receive the religious instruc- 
 tion of the Christians, and had voluntarily proposed 
 to have his eldest son educated by them. His son 
 had been accordingly placed at school in Dedham, 
 whence he had now come to attend the meeting. 
 
 The Indians assembled in Waban's wigwam ; and 
 thither Mr. Eliot and his friends were conducted. 
 When the company were all collected and quiet, a 
 religious service was begun with prayer. This was 
 uttered in English ; the reason for which, as given by 
 Mr. Eliot and his companions, was, that he did not 
 then feel sufficiently acquainted with the Indian lan- 
 guage to use it in that service. 
 
 The same difficulty would not occur in preaching, 
 since for this, we may suppose, he had sufficiently 
 prepared his thoughts and expressions to make his 
 discourse intelligible on all important points ; and if 
 he should, in some parts, fail of being understood, he 
 could rej^eat or correct himself, till he should succeed 
 better. Besides, he took with him an interpreter, who 
 was frequently able to express his instructions more 
 distinctly than he could himself. Though the j^rayer 
 was unintelligible to the Indians, yet, as they knew 
 what the nature of the service was, Mr. Eliot believed 
 it might not be without an effect in subduing their 
 feelings so as to prepare them better to listen to the 
 preaching. 
 
 Mr. Eliot then began his sermon, or address, from 
 Ezek. xxxvii. 9, 10. The word wind., in this passage, 
 suggested to the minds of some, who afterwards gave 
 an account of this meeting, a coincidence which might, 
 in the sj^irit of the times, be construed into a special 
 appointment of Providence. The name of Waban 
 signified, in the Indian tongue, loind ; so that when 
 
APPENDIX TO PART I 69 
 
 the preacher uttered the words, "say to the wind," it 
 was as if he had proclaimed, " say to Wahan.'" As 
 this man afterwards exerted much influence in awak- 
 ing the attention of his fellow savages to Christianity, 
 it might seem that in this first visit of the messengers 
 of the gospel he was singled out by a special call to 
 work in the cause. It is not surprising that the In- 
 dians were struck with the coincidence. Mr. Eliot 
 gave no countenance to a superstitious use of the cir- 
 cumstance, and took care to tell them that, when he 
 chose his text, he had no thought of any such applica- 
 tion. 
 
 The sermon was an hour and a quarter long. One 
 cannot but suspect that Mr. Eliot injudiciously 
 crowded too much into one address. It would seem 
 to have been better, for the first time at least, to have 
 given a shorter sermon, and to have touched upon 
 fewer subjects. But he was doubtless borne on by 
 his zeal to do much in a good cause ; and, as we 
 have reason to think, by the attentive, though vague, 
 curiosity of the Indians. 
 
 Thus ended a conference three hours long, at the 
 end of which the Indians affirmed that they were not 
 weary, and requested their visitors to come again. 
 They expressed a wish to build a town and live to- 
 gether. Mr. Eliot promised to intercede for them 
 with the court. He and his companions then gave 
 the men some tobacco, and the children some apples, 
 and bade them farewell. 
 
 A fortnight afterwards, on the 11th of November, 
 Mr. Eliot and his friends repeated their visit to the 
 wigwam of AVaban. This meeting was more numer- 
 ous than the former. The religious service was opened, 
 as before, with a prayer in English. This was fol- 
 
70 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 lowed b}^ a few brief and plain questions addressed to 
 the cliildren, admitting short and easy answers. The 
 children seemed well disposed to listen and learn. To 
 encourage them, Mr. Eliot gave them occasionally an 
 apple or a cake ; and the adidts were requested to 
 repeat to them the instructions that had been given. 
 He then preached to the assembly in their ow^ii lan- 
 guage, telling them that he had come to bring them 
 good news from God, and show them how wicked men 
 might become good and happy ; and, in general, dis- 
 coursing on nearly the same topics as he had treated 
 at his fii'st 'vdsit. 
 
PART II. 
 
 1692-1763. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CHATR IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 " Grandfather, dear Grandfather," cried little 
 Alice, "pray tell us some more stories about your 
 chair ! " 
 
 How long a time had fled since the children had 
 felt any curiosity to hear the sequel of this venerable 
 chair's adventures ! Summer was now past and gone, 
 and the better part of autumn likewise. Dreary, chill 
 November was howling out of doors, and vexing the 
 atmosphere with sudden showers of wintry rain, or 
 sometimes with gusts of snow, that rattled like small 
 pebbles against the windows. 
 
 When the weather began to grow cool, Grandfather's 
 chair had been removed from the summer parlor into 
 a smaller and snugger room. It now stood by the 
 side of a bright, blazing wood-fire. Grandfather loved 
 a wood-fire far better than a grate of glowing anthra- 
 cite, or than the dull heat of an invisible furnace, 
 which seems to think that it has done its duty in 
 merely warming the house. But the wood-fire is a 
 kindly, cheerful, sociable spirit, sympathizing with 
 mankind, and knowing that to create warmth is but 
 one of the good offices which are expected from it. 
 Therefore it dances on the hearth, and laughs broadly 
 
72 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 throughout the room, and plays a thousand antics, 
 and throws a joyous glow over all the faces that en- 
 circle it. 
 
 In the twilight of the evening the fire grew brighter 
 and more cheerful. And thus, perhaps, there was 
 something in Grandfather's heart that cheered him 
 most wdth its warmth and comfort in the gathering 
 twilight of old age. He had been gazing at the red 
 embers as intently as if his past life were all pictured 
 there, or as if it were a prospect of the future world, 
 when little Alice's voice aroused him. " Dear Grand- 
 father," repeated the little girl, more earnestly, " do 
 talk to us again about your chair." 
 
 Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice 
 had been attracted to other objects for two or three 
 months past. They had sported in the gladsome sun- 
 shine of the jDresent, and so had forgotten the shadowy 
 region of the past, in the midst of which stood Grand- 
 father's chair. But now, in the autumnal twilight, 
 illuminated by the flickering blaze of the wood-fire, 
 they looked at the old chair, and thought that it had 
 never before worn such an interesting aspect. There 
 it stood in the venerable majesty of more than two 
 hundred years. The light from the hearth quivered 
 upon the flowers and foliage that were wrought into 
 its oaken back ; and the lion's head at the summit 
 seemed almost to move its jaws and shake its mane. 
 
 "Does little Alice speak for all of you?" asked 
 Grandfather. " Do you wish me to go on with the 
 adventures of the chair ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, yes. Grandfather ! " cried Clara. " The 
 dear old chair ! How strange that we should have 
 forgotten it so long ! " 
 
 " Oh, pray begin, Grandfather," said Laurence, " for 
 
THE CHAIR IN THE FIRELIGHT. 73 
 
 I think, when we talk about old times, it should be in 
 the early evening, before the candles are lighted. The 
 shapes of the famous persons who once sat in the 
 chair will be more apt to come back, and be seen 
 among us, in this glimmer and pleasant gloom, than 
 they would in the vulgar daylight. And, besides, we 
 can make pictures of all that you tell us among the 
 glowing embers and white ashes." 
 
 Our friend Charley, too, thought the evening the 
 best time to hear Grandfather's stories, because he 
 could not then be playing out of doors. So finding 
 his young auditors unanimous in their petition, the 
 good old gentleman took up the narrative of the his- 
 toric chair at the point where he had dropped it. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SALEM AYITCHES. 
 
 "You recollect, my dear children," said Grand= 
 father, " that we took leave of the chair in 1692, while 
 it was occupied by Sir William PhijDs. This fortu- 
 nate treasure-seeker, you will remember, had come over 
 from England, with King William's commission, to 
 be governor of Massachusetts. Within the limits of 
 this province were now included the old colony of 
 Plymouth, and the territories of Maine and Nova 
 Scotia. Sir William Phips had likewise brought a 
 new charter from the king, which served instead of a 
 constitution, and set forth the method in which the 
 province was to be governed." 
 
 " Did the new charter allow the people all their 
 former liberties ? " inquired Laurence. 
 
 " No," replied Grandfather. " Under the first char- 
 ter, the people had been the source of all power. Win- 
 throp, Endicott, Bradstreet, and the rest of them had 
 been governors by the choice of the people, without 
 any interference of the king. But henceforth the 
 governor was to hold his station solely by the king's 
 appointment and during his pleasure ; and the same 
 was the case with the lieutenant-governor and some 
 other high officers. The people, however, were still 
 allowed to choose representatives ; and the governor's 
 council was chosen by the General Court." 
 
 " Would the inhabitants have elected Sir WiUiam 
 
THE SALEM WITCHES. 75 
 
 Phips," asked Laurence, " if the choice of governor 
 had been left to them ? " 
 
 " He might probably have been a successful candi- 
 date," answered Grandfather; "for his adventures 
 and military enterprises had gained him a sort of re- 
 nown, which always goes a great way with the people. 
 And he had many popular characteristics, — being a 
 kind, warm-hearted man, not ashamed of his low origin 
 nor haught}^ in his present elevation. Soon after his 
 arrival, he proved that he did not blush to recognize 
 his former associates." 
 
 "How was that?" inquired Charley. 
 
 " He made a grand festival at his new brick house," 
 said Grandfather, " and invited all the ship-carpenters 
 of Boston to be his guests. At the head of the table, 
 in our great chair, sat Sir William Phips himself, 
 treating these hard-handed men as his brethren, crack- 
 ing jokes with them, and talking familiarly about old 
 times. I know not whether he wore his embroidered 
 dress ; but I rather choose to imagine that he had on 
 a suit of rough clothes, such as he used to labor in 
 while he was Phips the ship-carpenter." 
 
 " An aristocrat need not be ashamed of the trade," 
 observed Laurence ; " for the Czar Peter the Great 
 once served an apprenticeship to it." 
 
 " Did Sir William Phips make as good a governor 
 as he was a ship-carpenter? " asked Charley. 
 
 " History says but little about his merits as a ship- 
 carpenter," answered Grandfather ; " but, as a gov- 
 ernor, a great deal of fault was found with him. Al- 
 most as soon as he assumed the government, he be- 
 came engaged in a very frightful business, which might 
 have perplexed a wiser and better cultivated head than 
 his. This was the witchcraft delusion." 
 
76 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 And liere Grandfather gave his auditors such de- 
 tails of this melancholy affair as he thought it fit for 
 them to know. They shuddered to hear that a frenzy, 
 which led to the death of many innocent persons, had 
 originated in the wicked arts of a few children. They 
 belonged to the Rev. Mr. Parris, minister of Salem. 
 These children complained of being pinched and pricked 
 with pins, and otherwise tormented by the shapes of 
 men and women, who were supposed to have power to 
 haunt them invisibly, both in darkness and daylight. 
 Often in the midst of their family and friends the 
 children would pretend to be seized with strange con- 
 vulsions, and would cry out that the witches were 
 afflicting them. 
 
 These stories spread abroad, and caused great tu- 
 mult and alarm. From the foundation of New Eng- 
 land, it had been the custom of the inhabitants, in all 
 matters of doubt and difficulty, to look to their minis- 
 ters for counsel. So they did now ; but, unfortunately, 
 the ministers and wise men were more deluded than 
 the illiterate people. Cotton Mather, a very learned 
 and eminent clergyman, believed that the whole coun- 
 try was full of witches and wizards, who had given up 
 their hopes of heaven, and signed a covenant with the 
 evil one. 
 
 Nobody could be certain that his nearest neighbor 
 or most intimate friend was not guilty of this imag- 
 inary crime. The number of those who pretended to 
 be afflicted by witchcraft grew daily more numerous ; 
 and they bore testimony against many of the best and 
 worthiest people. A minister, named George Bur- 
 roughs, was among the accused. In the months of 
 August and September, 1692, he and nineteen other 
 innocent men and women were put to death. The 
 
-I 
 
 3'^ 
 
 n 
 
 OJ CO 
 
 ■£ J! 
 
 r^ O 
 
 Ji to 
 
 1^^ 
 
 l^ 
 
THE SALEM WITCHES. 11 
 
 place of execution was a high hill, on the outskirts of 
 Salem ; so that many of the sufferers, as they stood 
 beneath the gallows, could discern their own habita- 
 tions in the town. 
 
 The martyrdom of these guiltless persons seemed 
 only to increase the madness. The afflicted now grew 
 bolder in their accusations. Many people of rank and 
 wealth were either thrown into prison or compelled to 
 flee for their lives. Among these were two sons of old 
 Simon Bradstreet, the last of the Puritan governors. 
 Mr. Willard, a pious minister of Boston, was cried out 
 upon as a wizard in open court. Mrs. Hale, the wife 
 of the minister of Beverly, was likewise accused. 
 Philip English, a rich merchant of Salem, found it 
 necessary to take flight, leaving his property and busi- 
 ness in confusion. But a short time afterwards, the 
 Salem people were glad to invite him back. 
 
 " The boldest thing that the accusers did," contin- 
 ued Grandfather, " was to cry out against the govern- 
 or's own beloved wife. Yes, the lady of Sir William 
 Phips was accused of being a witch and of flying 
 through the air to attend witch-meetings. When the 
 governor heard this he probably trembled, so that our 
 great chair shook beneath him." 
 
 "Dear Grandfather," cried little Alice, clinging 
 closer to his knee, " is it true that witches ever come 
 in the night-time to frighten little children?" 
 
 "No, no, dear little Alice," replied Grandfather. 
 " Even if there were any witches, they would flee away 
 from the presence of a pure-hearted child. But there 
 are none ; and our forefathers soon became convinced 
 that they had been led into a terrible delusion. All 
 the prisoners on account of witchcraft were set free. 
 But the innocent dead could not be restored to life ; 
 
78 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 and tlie hill where they were executed will always re- 
 mind people of the saddest and most humiliating pas- 
 sage in our history." ^ 
 
 Grandfather then said that the next remarkable 
 event, while Sir William Phips remained in the 
 chair, was the arrival at Boston of an English fleet 
 in 1693. It brought an army which was intended for 
 the conquest of Canada. But a malignant disease, 
 more fatal than the small-pox, broke out among the 
 soldiers and sailors, and destroyed the greater part of 
 them. The infection spread into the town of Boston, 
 and made much havoc there. This dreadful sickness 
 caused the governor and Sir Francis Wheeler, who 
 was commander of the British forces, to give up all 
 thoughts of attacking Canada. 
 
 " Soon after this," said Grandfather, " Sir William 
 Phips quarrelled with the captain of an English 
 frigate, and also with the collector of Boston. Being 
 a man of violent temper, he gave each of them a sound 
 beating with his cane." 
 
 " He was a bold fellow," observed Charley, who was 
 himself somewhat addicted to a similar mode of set- 
 tling disputes. 
 
 " More bold than wise," replied Grandfather ; *' for 
 complaints were carried to the king, and Sir William 
 Phips was summoned to England to make the best 
 answer he could. Accordingly he went to London, 
 where, in 1695, he was seized with a malignant fever, 
 of which he died. Had he lived longer, he would 
 probably have gone again in search of sunken treas- 
 \ire. He had heard of a Spanish ship, which was cast 
 
 ^ Longfellow's tragedy Giles Corey of the Salem Farms has to 
 do with the witchcraft delusion„aud so has Hawthorne's tale of 
 Yaung Goodman Brown. 
 
THE SALEM WITCHES. 79 
 
 away in 1502, during the lifetime of Columbus. Bo- 
 vadllla, Roklan, and many other Spaniards were lost 
 In her, together with the immense wealth of whicli 
 they had robbed the South American kings." 
 
 " Why, Grandfather ! " exclaimed Laurence, "what 
 magnificent ideas the governor had ! Only think of 
 recovering all that old treasure which had lain almost 
 two centuries under the sea ! Methinks Sir William 
 Phips ought to have been buried in the ocean when 
 he died, so that he might have gone down among the 
 sunken ships and cargoes of treasure which he was al- 
 ways dreaming about in his lifetime." 
 
 " He was buried in one of the crowded cemeteries of 
 London," said Grandfather. " As he left no children, 
 his estate was inherited by his nephew, from whom is 
 descended the present Marquis of Normandy. The 
 noble Marquis is not aware, perhaps, that the pros- 
 perity of his family originated in the successful enter* 
 prise of a New England ship-carpenter." 
 
CHAPTER ni. 
 
 THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL. 
 
 " At the death of Sir William Phips," proceeded 
 Grandfather, " our chair was bequeathed to Mr. Eze- 
 kiel Cheever, a famous schoolmaster in Boston. This 
 old gentleman came from London in 1637, and had 
 been teaching school ever since ; so that there were 
 now aged men, grandfathers like myself, to whom 
 Master Cheever had taught their alphabet. He was 
 a person of venerable aspect, and wore a long white 
 beard." 
 
 " Was the chair placed in his school ? " asked Char- 
 ley. 
 
 " Yes, in his school," answered Grandfather ; " and 
 we may safely say that it had never before been re- 
 garded with such awful reverence, — no, not even when 
 the old governors of Massachusetts sat in it. Even 
 you, Charley, my boy, would have felt some respect 
 for the chair if you had seen it occupied by this far 
 mous schoolmaster." 
 
 And here grandfather endeavored to give his au- 
 ditors an idea how matters were managed in schools 
 above a hundred years ago. As this will probably be 
 an interesting subject to our readers, we shall make a 
 separate sketch of it, and call it The Old-Fashioned 
 School. 
 
 Now, imagine yourselves, my children, in Master 
 Ezekiel Cheever's school-room. It is a large, dingy 
 
THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL. 81 
 
 room, with a sanded floor, and is lighted by windows 
 that turn on hinges and have little diamond-shaped 
 panes of glass. The scholars sit on long benches, 
 with desks before them. At one end of the room is 
 a great fireplace, so very spacious that there is room 
 enough for three or four boys to stand in each of the 
 chimney corners. This was the good old fashion of 
 fireplaces when there was wood enough in the forests 
 to keep people warm without their digging into the 
 bowels of the earth for coal. 
 
 It is a winter's day when we take our peep into the 
 school-room. See what great logs of wood have been 
 rolled into the fireplace, and what a broad, bright 
 blaze goes leaping up the chimney ! And every few 
 moments a vast cloud of smoke is puffed into the 
 room, which sails slowly over the heads of the schol- 
 ars, until it gradually settles upon the walls and ceil- 
 ing. They are blackened with the smoke of many 
 years already. 
 
 Next look at our old historic chair ! It is placed, 
 you perceive, in the most comfortable part of the room, 
 where the generous glow of the fire is sufficiently felt 
 without being too intensely hot. ' How stately the old 
 chair looks, as if it remembered its many famous occu- 
 pants, but yet were conscious that a greater man is 
 sitting in it now ! Do you see the venerable school- 
 master, severe in aspect, with a black skullcap on his 
 head, like an ancient Puritan, and the snow of his 
 white beard drifting down to his very girdle ? What 
 boy would dare to play, or whisper, or even glance 
 aside from his book, while Master Cheever is on the 
 lookout behind his spectacles? For such offenders, 
 if any such there be, a rod of birch is hanging over 
 the fireplace, and a heavy ferule lies on the master's 
 desk. 
 
82 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 And now school is begun. What a murmur of mul- 
 titudinous tongues, like the whispering leaves of a 
 wind-stirred oak, as the scholars con over their various 
 tasks ! Buzz ! buzz ! buzz I Amid just such a mur- 
 mur has Master Cheever spent above sixty years ; and 
 long habit has made it as pleasant to him as the hum 
 of a beehive when the insects are busy in the sunshinCo 
 
 Now a class in Latin is called to recite. Forth steps 
 a row of queer-looking little fellows, wearing square- 
 skirted coats and small-clothes, with buttons at the 
 knee. They look like so many grandfathers in their 
 second childhood. These lads are to be sent to Cam- 
 bridge and educated for the learned professions. Old 
 Master Cheever had lived so long, and seen so many 
 generations of school-boys grow up to be men, that 
 now he can almost prophesy what sort of a man each 
 boy will be. One urchin shall hereafter be a doctor, 
 and administer pills and potions, and stalk gravely 
 through life, perfumed with assafoetida. Another 
 shall wrangle at the bar, and fight his way to wealth 
 and honors, and, in his declining age, shall be a wor- 
 shipful member of his Majesty's council. A third — 
 and he is the master's favorite — shall be a worthv 
 successor to the old Puritan ministers now in their 
 graves ; he shall preach with great unction and effect, 
 and leave volumes of sermons, in print and manuscript, 
 for the benefit of future generations. 
 
 But, as they are merely school-boys now, their busi- 
 ness is to construe Yirgil. Poor Virgil ! whose verses, 
 which he took so much pains to polish, have been 
 misscanned, and misparsed, and misinterpreted by so 
 many generations of idle school-boys. There, sit 
 down, ye Latinists. Two or three of you, I fear, are 
 doomed to feel the master's ferule. 
 
THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL. 83 
 
 Next comes a class in arithmetic. These boys are 
 to be the merchants, shopkeepers, and mechanics of 
 a future period. Hitherto they hare traded only in 
 marbles and apples. Hereafter some will send vessels 
 to England for broadcloths and all sorts of manufac- 
 tured wares, and to the West Indies for sugar, and 
 rum, and coffee. Others will stand behind counters, 
 and measure tape, and ribbon, and cambric by the 
 yard. Others will upheave the blacksmith's hammer, 
 or drive the plane over the carpenter's bench, or take 
 the lapstone and the awl and learn the trade of shoe- 
 making. Many will follow the sea, and become bold, 
 rough sea-captains. 
 
 This class of boys, in short, must supply the world 
 with those active, skilful hands, and clear, sagacious 
 heads, without which the affairs of life would be 
 thrown into confusion by the theories of studious and 
 visionary men. Wherefore, teach them their multi- 
 plication-table, good Master Cheever, and whip them 
 well when they deserve it ; for much of the country's 
 welfare depends on these boys. 
 
 But, alas ! while we have been thinking of other 
 matters. Master Cheever's watchful eye has caught 
 two boys at play. Now we shall see awful times. The 
 two malefactors are summoned before the master's 
 chair, wherein he sits with the terror of a judge upon 
 his brow. Our old chair is now a judgment-seat. Ah, 
 Master Cheever has taken down that terrible birch 
 rod ! Short is the trial, — the sentence quickly passed, 
 — and now the judge prepares to execute it in person. 
 Thwack ! thwack ! thwack ! In these good old times, 
 a schoolmaster's blows were well laid on. 
 
 See, the birch rod has lost several of its twigs, and 
 will hardly serve for another execution. Mercy on 
 
84 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR, 
 
 us, what a bellowing the urchins make ! My ears are 
 almost deafened, though the clamor comes through the 
 far length of a hundred and fifty years. There, go to 
 your seats, poor boys ; and do not cry, sweet little 
 Alice, for they have ceased to feel the pain a long 
 time since. 
 
 And thus the forenoon passes away. Now it is 
 twelve o'clock. The master looks at his great silver 
 watch, and then, with tiresome deliberation, puts the 
 ferule into his desk. The little multitude await the 
 word of dismissal with almost irrepressible impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " You are dismissed," says Master Cheever. 
 
 The boys retire, treading softly until they have 
 passed the threshold ; but, fairly out of the school- 
 room, lo, what a joyous shout ! what a scampering and 
 trampling of feet ! what a sense of recovered freedom 
 expressed in the merry uproar of all their voices! 
 What care they for the ferule and birch rod now? 
 Were boys created merely to study Latin and arith- 
 metic ? No ; the better purposes of their being are to 
 sport, to leap, to run, to shout, to slide upon the ice, 
 to snowball. 
 
 Happy boys ! Enjoy your playtime now, and come 
 again to study and to feel the birch rod and the ferule 
 to-morrow ; not till to-morrow ; for to-day is Thursday 
 lecture ; and, ever since the settlement of Massachu- 
 setts, there has been no school on Thursday after- 
 noons. Therefore sport, boys, while you may, for the 
 morrow cometh, with the birch rod and the ferule ; 
 and after that another morrow, with troubles of its 
 own. 
 
 Now the master has set everything to rights, and is 
 ready to go home to dinner. Yet he goes reluctantly. 
 
THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL. 85 
 
 The old man has spent so much of his life in the 
 smoky, noisy, buzzing school-room, that, when he has 
 a holiday, he feels as if his place were lost and him- 
 self a stranger in the world. But forth he goes ; and 
 there stands our old chair, vacant and solitary, tiU 
 good Master Cheever resumes his seat in it to-morrow 
 morning. 
 
 " Grandfather," said Charley, " I wonder whether 
 the boys did not use to upset the old chair when the 
 schoolmaster was out." 
 
 ''There is a tradition," replied Grandfather, "that 
 one of its arms was dislocated in some such manner. 
 But I cannot believe that any school-boy would behave 
 so naughtily." 
 
 As it was now later than little Alice's usual bed- 
 time, Grandfather broke off his narrative, promising 
 to talk more about Master Cheever and his scholars 
 some other evening. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 COTTON MATHER. 
 
 Accordingly, the next evening, Grandfather re- 
 sumed the history of his beloved chair. 
 
 '' Master Ezekiel Cheever," said he, " died in 1707, 
 after having taught school about seventy years. It 
 would require a pretty good scholar in arithmetic to 
 tell how many stripes he had inflicted, and how many 
 birch rods he had worn out, during all that time, in 
 his fatherly tenderness for his pupils. Almost all the 
 great men of that period, and for many years back, 
 had been whipped into eminence by Master Cheever. 
 Moreover, he had written a Latin Accidence, which 
 was used in schools more than half a century after his 
 death ; so that the good old man, even in his grave, 
 was still the cause of trouble and stripes to idle school- 
 boys." 
 
 Grandfather proceeded to say, that, when Master 
 Cheever died, he bequeathed the chair to the most 
 learned man that was educated at his school, or that 
 had ever been born in America. This was the re- 
 nowned Cotton Mather, minister of the Old North 
 Church in Boston. 
 
 " And author of the Magnalia,^ Grandfather, which 
 we sometimes see you reading," said Laurence. 
 
 ^ Whittier's poem The Garrison of Cape Ann is a story out of 
 Mather's Magnalia. The full title of Mather's book was Mag- 
 nalia Christi Americana, that is, the Mighty Deeds of Christ in 
 America. 
 
COTTON MATHER. 87 
 
 " Yes, Laurence," replied Grandfather. " The Mag- 
 nalla is a strange, pedantic history, in which true 
 events and real personages move before the reader 
 with the dreamy aspect which they wore in Cotton 
 Mather's singular mind. This huge volume, however, 
 was written and published before our chair came into 
 his possession. But, as he was the author of more 
 books than there are days in the year, we may con- 
 clude that he wrote a great deal while sitting in this 
 chair." 
 
 " I am tired of these schoolmasters and learned 
 men," said Charley. " I wish some stirring man, that 
 knew how to do something in the world, like Sir 
 William Phips, would sit in the chair." 
 
 " Such men seldom have leisure to sit quietly in a 
 chair," said Grandfather. " We must make the best 
 of such people as we have." 
 
 As Cotton Mather was a very distingiiished man, 
 Grandfather took some pains to give the children a 
 lively conception of his character. Over the door of 
 his library were painted these words, be short, — as 
 a warning to visitors that they must not do the world 
 80 much harm as needlessly to interrupt this great 
 man's wonderful labors. On entering the room you 
 would probably behold it crowded, and piled, and 
 heaped with books. There were huge, ponderous 
 folios, and quartos, and little duodecimos, in English, 
 Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldaic, and all other lan- 
 guages that either originated at the confusion of Babel 
 or have since come into use. 
 
 All these books, no doubt, were tossed about in con- 
 fusion, thus forming a visible emblem of the manner 
 in which their contents were crowded into Cotton 
 Mather's brain. And in the middle of the room stood 
 
88 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 a table, on which, besides printed volumes, were 
 strewn manuscript sermons, historical tracts, and po- 
 litical pamphlets, all written in such a queer, blind, 
 crabbed, fantastical hand, that a writing-master would 
 have gone raving mad at the sight of them. By this 
 table stood Grandfather's chair, which seemed to have 
 contracted an air of deep erudition, as if its cushion 
 were stuffed with Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and 
 other hard matters. 
 
 In this chair, from one year's end to another, sat 
 that prodigious bookworm, Cotton Mather, sometimes 
 devouring a great book, and sometimes scribbling one 
 as big. In Grandfather's younger days there used 
 to be a wax figure of him in one of the Boston mu- 
 seums, representing a solemn, dark-visaged person, 
 in a minister's black gown, and with a black-letter 
 volume before him. 
 
 " It is difficult, my children," observed Grandfather, 
 " to make you understand such a character as Cotton 
 Mather's, in whom there was so much good, and yet 
 so many failings and frailties. Undoubtedly he was a 
 pious man. Often he kept fasts ; and once, for three 
 whole days, he allowed himself not a morsel of food, 
 but spent the time in prayer and religious meditation. 
 Many a live-long night did he watch and pray. These 
 fasts and vigils made him meagre and haggard, and 
 probably caused him to appear as if he hardly be- 
 longed to the world." 
 
 " Was not the witchcraft delusion partly caused by 
 Cotton Mather ? " inquired Laurence. 
 
 " He was the chief agent of the mischief," answered 
 Grandfather; "but we will not suppose that he acted 
 otherwise than conscientiously. He believed that 
 there were evil spirits all about the world. Doubtless 
 
COTTON MATHER. 89 
 
 he imagined that they were hidden in the corners and 
 crevices of his library, and that they peeped out from 
 among the leaves of many of his books, as he turned 
 them over, at midnight. He supposed that these un- 
 lovely demons were everywhere, in the sunshine as 
 well as in the darkness, and that they were hidden 
 in men's hearts, and stole into their most secret 
 thoughts." 
 
 Here Grandfather was interrupted by little Alice, 
 who hid her face in his lap, and murmured a wish that 
 he would not talk any more about Cotton Mather and 
 the evil spirits. Grandfather kissed her, and told 
 her that angels were the only spirits whom she had 
 anything to do with. He then spoke of the public 
 affairs of the period. 
 
 A new war between France and England had broken 
 _ out in 1702, and had been raging ever since. In the 
 course of it. New England suffered much injury from 
 the French and Indians, who often came through the 
 woods from Canada and assaulted the frontier towns. 
 Villages were sometimes burned, and the inhabitants 
 slaughtered, within a day's ride of Boston. ^ The peo- 
 ple of New England had a bitter hatred against the 
 French, not only for the mischief which they did with 
 their own hands, but because they incited the Indians 
 to hostility. 
 
 The New-Englanders knew that they could never 
 dwell in security until the provinces of France should 
 be subdued and brought under the English govern- 
 ment. They frequently, in time of war, undertook 
 military expeditions against Acadia and Canada, and 
 sometimes besieged the fortresses by which those ter- 
 ritories were defended. But the most earnest wish of 
 ^ See Whittier's poem Pentucket. 
 
90 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 their hearts was to take Quebec, and so get posses- 
 sion of the whole province of Canada. Sir William 
 Phips had once attempted it, but without success. 
 
 Fleets and soldiers were often sent from England to 
 assist the colonists in their warlike undertakings. In 
 1710 Port Royal, a fortress of Acadia, was taken by 
 the English. The next year, in the month of June, a 
 fleet, commanded by Admiral Sir Hovenden Walker, 
 arrived in Boston Harbor. On board of this fleet was 
 the English General Hill, with seven regiments of 
 soldiers, who had been fighting under the Duke of 
 Marlborough in Flanders. The government of Mas- 
 sachusetts was called upon to find provisions for the 
 army and fleet, and to raise more men to assist in 
 taking Canada. 
 
 What with recruiting and drilling of soldiers, there 
 was now nothing but warlike bustle in the streets of 
 Boston. The drum and fife, the rattle of arms, and 
 the shouts of boys were heard from morning till night. 
 In about a month the fleet set sail, carrying four regi- 
 ments from New England and New York, besides the 
 English soldiers. The whole army amounted to at 
 least seven thousand men. They steered for the 
 mouth of the river St. Lawrence. 
 
 " Cotton Mather prayed most fervently for their 
 success," continued Grandfather, " both in his pulpit 
 and when he kneeled down in the solitude of his 
 library, resting his face on our old chair. But Provi- 
 dence ordered the result otherwise. In a few weeks 
 tidino^s were received that eio-ht or nine of the vessels 
 had been wrecked in the St. Lawrence, and that above 
 a thousand drowned soldiers had been washed ashore 
 on the. banks of that mighty river. After this mis- 
 fortune Sir Hovenden Walker set sail for England ; 
 
COTTON MATHER. 91 
 
 and many pious people began to think it a sin even to 
 wish for the conquest of Canada." 
 
 " I would never give it up so," cried Charley. 
 
 "Nor did they, as we shall see," replied Grand- 
 father. " However, no more attempts were made 
 during this war, which came to a close in 1713. The 
 people of New England were probably glad of some 
 repose ; for their young men had been made soldiers, 
 till many of them were fit for nothing else. And those 
 who remained at home had been heavily taxed to pay 
 for the arms, ammunition, fortifications, and all the 
 other endless expenses of a war. There was great need 
 of the prayers of Cotton Mather and of all pious men, 
 not only on account of the sufferings of the people, 
 but because the old moral and religious character of 
 New England was in danger of being utterly lost." 
 
 " How glorious it would have been," remarked Lau- 
 rence, " if our forefathers could have kept the country 
 unspotted with blood ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Grandfather ; " but there was a stern, 
 warlike spirit in them from the beginning. They 
 seem never to have thought of questioning either the 
 morality or piety of war." 
 
 The next event which Grandfather spoke of was 
 one that Cotton Mather, as well as most of the other 
 inhabitants of New England, heartily rejoiced at. 
 This was the accession of the Elector of Hanover to 
 the throne of England, in 1714, on the death of Queen 
 Anne. Hitherto the people had been in continual 
 dread that the male line of the Stuarts, who were de- 
 scended from the beheaded King Charles and the ban- 
 ished King James, would be restored to the throne. 
 
 "The importance of this event," observed Grand- 
 father, " was a thousand times greater than that of a 
 
92 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Presidential election in our own days. If the people 
 dislike their President, they may get rid of him in 
 four years ; whereas a dynasty of kings may wear the 
 crown for an unlimited period." 
 
 The German elector was proclaimed king from the 
 balcony of the town-house in Boston, by the title of 
 George I. ; while the trumpets sounded and the people 
 cried amen. That night the towTi was illuminated ; 
 and Cotton Mather threw aside book and pen, and 
 left Grandfather's chair vacant, while he walked hither 
 and thither to witness the rejoicings. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE KEJECTED BLESSING. 
 
 " Cotton Mather," continued Grandfather, " was 
 a bitter enemy to Governor Dudley; and nobody 
 exulted more than he when that crafty politician 
 was removed from the government, and succeeded 
 by Colonel Shute.^ This took place in 1716. The 
 new governor had been an officer in the renowned 
 Duke of Marlborough's army, and had fought in some 
 of the great battles in Flanders." 
 
 " Now I hope," said Charley, " we shall hear of his 
 doing great things." 
 
 " I am afraid you will be disappointed, Charley," 
 answered Grandfather. "It is true that Colonel 
 Shute had probably never led so unquiet a life while 
 fighting the French as he did now, while governing 
 this province of Massachusetts Bay. But his troubles 
 consisted almost entirely of dissensions with the Legis- 
 lature. The king had ordered him to lay claim to a 
 fixed salary ; but the representatives of the people in- 
 sisted upon paying him only such sums from year to 
 year as they saw fit." 
 
 Grandfather here explained some of the circum- 
 stances that made the situation of a colonial governor 
 so difficult and irksome. There was not the same 
 feeling towards the chief magistrate now that had ex- 
 
 ^ Hawthorne connects bis story of Lady Eleanore's Mantle 
 with Governor Shute. 
 
94 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 isted while he was chosen by the free suffrages of the 
 people. It was felt that as the king appointed the 
 governor, and as he held his office during the king's 
 pleasure, it would be his great object to please the 
 king. But the people thought that a governor ought 
 to have nothing in view but the best interests of those 
 whom he governed. 
 
 " The governor," remarked Grandfather, " had two 
 masters to serve, — the king, who appointed him ; and 
 the people, on whom he depended for his pay. Few 
 men in this position would have ingenuity enough to 
 satisfy either party. Colonel Shute, though a good- 
 natured, well-meaning man, succeeded so ill with the 
 people, that, in 1722, he suddenly went away to Eng- 
 land and made complaint to King George. In the 
 meantime Lieutenant-Governor Dummer directed the 
 affairs of the province, and carried on a long and 
 bloody war with the Indians." 
 
 " But where was our chair all this time ? " asked 
 Clara. 
 
 " It still remained in Cotton Mather's library," re- 
 plied Grandfather ; " and I must not omit to tell you 
 an incident which is very much to the honor of this 
 celebrated man. It is the more proper, too, that you 
 should hear it, because it will show you what a terrible 
 calamity the small-pox was to our forefathers. The 
 history of the province (and, of course, the history 
 of our chair) would be incomplete without particular 
 mention of it." 
 
 Accordingly Grandfather told the children a story, 
 to which, for want of a better title, we shaU give that 
 of The Rejected Blessing. 
 
 One day, in 1721, Doctor Cotton Mather sat in his 
 library reading a book that had been published by the 
 
THE REJECTED BLESSING. 95 
 
 Royal Society of London. But every few moments 
 he laid the book upon the table, and leaned back in 
 Grandfather's chair with an aspect of deep care and 
 disquietude. There were certain things which trou- 
 bled him exceedingly, so that he could hardly fix his 
 thoughts upon what he read. 
 
 It was now a gloomy time in Boston. That terrible 
 disease, the small-pox, had recently made its appear- 
 ance in the town. Ever since the first settlement of 
 the country this awful pestilence had come at inter- 
 vals, and swept away multitudes of the inhabitants. 
 Whenever it commenced its ravages, nothing seemed 
 to stay its progress until there were no more victims 
 for it to seize upon. Oftentimes hundreds of people 
 at once lay groaning with its agony ; and when it de- 
 parted, its deep footsteps were always to be traced in 
 many graves. 
 
 The people never felt secure from this calamity. 
 Sometimes, perhaps, it was brought into the country 
 by a poor sailor, who had caught the infection in for- 
 eign parts, and came hither to die and to b& the cause 
 of many deaths. Sometimes, no doubt, it followed in 
 the train of the pompous governors when they came 
 over from England. Sometimes the disease lay hid- 
 den in the cargoes of ships, among silks, and brocades, 
 and other costly merchandise which was imported for 
 the rich people to wear. And sometimes it started up 
 seemingly of its own accord, and nobody could tell 
 whence it came. The physician, being called to attend 
 the sick person, would look at him, and say, "It is 
 the small-pox! Let the patient be carried to the 
 hospital." 
 
 And now this dreadful sickness had shown itself 
 again in Boston. Cotton Mather was greatly afflicted 
 
96 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 for the sake of the whole province. He had children^ 
 too, who were exposed to the danger. At that very 
 moment he heard the voice of his youngest son, for 
 whom his heart was moved with apprehension. 
 
 " Alas ! I fear for that poor child," said Cotton 
 Mather to himself. " What shall I do for my son 
 Samuel?" 
 
 Again he attempted to drive away these thoughts 
 by taking up the book which he had been reading. 
 And now, all of a sudden, his attention became fixed. 
 The book contained a printed letter that an Italian 
 physician had written upon the very subject about 
 which Cotton Mather was so anxiously meditating. 
 He ran his eye eagerly over the pages ; and, behold ! 
 a method was disclosed to him by which the small-pox 
 might be robbed of its worst terrors. Such a method 
 was known in Greece. The physicians of Turkey, too, 
 those long-bearded Eastern sages, had been acquainted 
 with it for many years. The negroes of Africa, igno- 
 rant as they were, had likewise practised it, and thus 
 had shown themselves wiser than the white men. 
 
 " Of a truth," ejaculated Cotton Mather, clasping 
 his hands and looking up to heaven, "it was a merci- 
 ful Providence that brought this book under mine 
 eye. I will procure a consultation of physicians, and 
 see whether this wondrous inoculation may not stay 
 the progress of the destroyer." 
 
 So he arose from Grandfather's chair and went out 
 of the library. Near the door he met his son Samuel, 
 who seemed downcast and out of spirits. The boy 
 had heard, probably, that some of his playmates were 
 taken ill with the small-pox. But, as his father looked 
 cheerfully at him, Samuel took courage, trusting that 
 either the wisdom of so learned a minister would find 
 
THE REJECTED BLESSING. 97 
 
 some remedy for the danger, or else that his prayers 
 would secure protection from on high. 
 
 Meanwhile Cotton Mather took his staff and three- 
 cornered hat and walked about the streets, calling at 
 the houses of all the physicians in Boston. They were 
 a very wise fraternity ; and their huge wigs, and black 
 dresses, and solemn visages made their wisdom appear 
 even profounder than it was. One after another he 
 acquainted them with the discovery which he had hit 
 upon. 
 
 But the grave and sagacious personages would 
 scarcely listen to* him. The oldest doctor in town 
 contented himself with remarking that no such thing 
 as inoculation was mentioned by Galen or Hipj^ocrates ; 
 and it was impossible that modern physicians should 
 be wiser than those old sages. A second held up his 
 hands in dumb astonishment and horror at the mad- 
 ness of what Cotton Mather proposed to do. A third 
 told him, in pretty plain terms, that he knew not what 
 he was talking about. A fourth requested, in the 
 name of the whole medical fraternit}^, that Cotton 
 Mather would confine his attention to people's souls, 
 and leave the physicians to take care of their bodies. 
 
 In short, there was but a single doctor among them 
 all who would grant the poor minister so much as a 
 patient hearing. This was Doctor Zabdiel Boylston. 
 He looked into the matter like a man of sense, and 
 finding, bej^ond a doubt, that inoculation had rescued 
 many from death, he resolved to try the experiment in 
 his own family. 
 
 And so he did. But when the other physicians 
 heard of it they arose in great fury and began a war 
 of words, written, printed, and spoken, against Cotton 
 Mather and Doctor Boylston. To hear them talk, you 
 
98 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 would have supposed that these two harmless and be- 
 nevolent men had plotted the ruin of the country. 
 
 The people, also, took the alarm. Man}^, who 
 thought themselves more pious than their neighbors, 
 contended that, if Providence had ordained them to 
 die of the small-pox, it was sinful to aim at preventing 
 it. The strangest reports were in circulation. Some 
 said that Doctor Boylston had contrived a method for 
 conveying the gout, rheumatism, sick-headache, asthma, 
 and all other diseases from one person to another, and 
 diffusing them through the whole community. Others 
 flatly affirmed that the evil one had got possession of 
 Cotton Mather, and was at the bottom of the whole 
 business. 
 
 You must observe, children, that Cotton Mather's 
 fellow-citizens were generally inclined to doubt the 
 wisdom of any measure which he might propose to 
 them. They recollected how he had led them astray 
 in the old witchcraft delusion ; and now, if he thought 
 and acted ever so wisely, it was difficult for him to get 
 the credit of it. 
 
 The people's wrath grew so hot at his attempt to 
 guard them from the small-pox that he could not walk 
 the streets in peace. Whenever the venerable form 
 of the old minister, meagre and haggard with fasts 
 and vigils, was seen approaching, hisses were heard, 
 and shouts of derision, and scornful and bitter laugh- 
 ter. The women snatched away their children from 
 his path, lest he should do them a mischief. Still, 
 however, bending his head meekly, and perhaps stretch- 
 ing out his hands to bless those who reviled him, he 
 pursued his way. But the tears came into his eyes 
 to think how blindly the people rejected the means of 
 safety that were offered them. 
 
THE REJECTED BLESSING. 99 
 
 Indeed, there were melancholy sights enough in the 
 streets of Boston to draw forth the tears of a compas- 
 sionate man. Over the door of almost every dwelling 
 a red flag was fluttering in the air. This was the sig- 
 nal that the small-pox had entered the house and at- 
 tacked some member of the family; or perhaps the 
 whole family, old and young, were struggling at once 
 with the pestilence. Friends and relatives, when they 
 met one another in the streets, would hurry onward 
 without a grasp of the hand or scarcely a word of 
 greeting, lest they should catch or communicate the 
 contagion ; and often a coffin was borne hastily 
 along. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " said Cotton Mather to himself, 
 " what shall be done for this poor, misguided people ? 
 Oh that Providence would open their eyes, and enable 
 them to discern good from evil ! " 
 
 So furious, however, were the people, that they 
 threatened vengeance against any person who should 
 dare to practise inoculation, though it were only in his 
 own family. This was a hard case for Cotton Mather, 
 who saw no other way to rescue his poor child Samuel 
 from the disease. But he resolved to save him, even 
 if his house should be burned over his head. 
 
 " I will not be turned aside," said he. " My towns- 
 men shall see that I have faith in this thing, when I 
 make the experiment on my beloved son, whose life is 
 dearer to me than my own. And when I have saved 
 Samuel, peradventure they will be persuaded to save 
 themselves." 
 
 Accordingly Samuel was inoculated ; and so was 
 Mr. Walter, a son-in-law of Cotton Mather. Doctor 
 Boylston, likewise, inoculated many persons ; and while 
 hundreds died who had caught the contagion from 
 
 l.cfC. 
 
100 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 the garments of the sick, almost all were preserved 
 who followed the wise physician's advice. 
 
 But the people were not yet convinced of their mis- 
 take. One night a destructive little instrument, called 
 a hand-grenade, was thrown into Cotton Mather's win- 
 dow, and rolled under Grandfather's chair. It was 
 supposed to be filled with gunpowder, the explosion 
 of which would have blown the poor minister to atoms. 
 But the best informed historians are of opinion that 
 the grenade contained only brimstone and assafoetida, 
 and was meant to plague Cotton Mather with a very 
 evil perfume. 
 
 This is no strange thing in human experience. Men 
 who attempt to do the world more good than the world 
 is able entirely to comprehend are almost invariably 
 held in bad odor. But yet, if the wise and good man 
 can wait awhile, either the present generation or pos- 
 terity will do him justice. So it proved in the case 
 which we have been speaking of. In after years, when 
 inoculation was universally practised, and thousands 
 were saved from death by it, the people remembered 
 old Cotton Mather, then sleeping in his grave. They 
 acknowledged that the very thing for which they had 
 so reviled and persecuted him was the best and wisest 
 thing he ever did. 
 
 " Grandfather, this is not an agreeable story," ob- 
 served Clara. 
 
 " No, Clara," replied Grandfather. " But it is right 
 that you should know what a dark shadow this disease 
 threw over the times of our forefathers. And now, if 
 you wish to learn more about Cotton Mather, you must 
 read his biography, written by Mr. Peabody, of Spring- 
 field. You will find it very entertaining and instruC' 
 
THE REJECTED BLESSING. 101 
 
 tive ; but perhaps the writer is somewhat too harsh in 
 his judgment of this singular man. He estimates him 
 fairly, indeed, and understands him well ; but he un- 
 riddles his character rather by acuteness than by sym- 
 pathy. Now, his life should have been written by 
 one who, knowing all his faults, would nevertheless 
 love him." 
 
 So Grandfather made an end of Cotton Mather, tell- 
 ing his auditors that he died in 1728, at the age of 
 sixty-five, and bequeathed the chair to Elisha Cooke. 
 This gentleman was a famous advocate of the people's 
 rights. 
 
 The same year William Burnet, a son of the cele- 
 brated Bishop Burnet, arrived in Boston with the com- 
 mission of governor. He was the first that had been 
 appointed since the departure of Colonel Shute. Gov- 
 ernor Burnet took up his residence with Mr. Cooke 
 while the Province House was undergoing repairs. 
 During this period he was always complimented with 
 a seat in Grandfather's chair ; and so comfortable did 
 he find it, that, on removing to the Province House, he 
 could not bear to leave it behind him. Mr. Cooke, 
 therefore, requested his acceptance of it. 
 
 " I should think," said Laurence, " that the people 
 would have petitioned the king always to appoint a 
 native-born New-Englander to govern them." 
 
 " Undoubtedly it was a grievance," answered Grand- 
 father, " to see men placed in this station who perhaps 
 had neither talents nor virtues to fit them for it, and 
 who certainly could have no natural affection for the 
 country. The king generally bestowed the governor- 
 ships of the American colonies upon needy noblemen, 
 or hangers-on at court, or disbanded officers. The 
 people knew that such persons would be very likely to 
 
102 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR, 
 
 make the good of the country subservient to the wishes 
 of the king. The Legislature, therefore, endeavored 
 to keep as much power as possible in their own hands, 
 by refusing to settle a fixed salary upon the governors. 
 It was thought better to pay them according to their 
 deserts." 
 
 " Did Governor Burnet work well for his money ? " 
 asked Charley. 
 
 Grandfather could not help smiling at the simplicity 
 of Charley's question. Nevertheless, it put the matter 
 in a very plain point of view. 
 
 He then described the character of Governor Bur- 
 net, representing him as a good scholar, possessed of 
 much ability, and likewise of unspotted integrity. His 
 story affords a striking example how unfortunate it 
 is for a man, who is placed as ruler over a country, 
 to be compelled to aim at anything but the good of 
 the people. Governor Burnet was so chained down by 
 his instructions from the king that he could not act 
 as he might otherwise have wished. Consequently, his 
 whole term of office was wasted in quarrels with the 
 Legislature. 
 
 " I am afraid, children," said Grandfather, " that 
 Governor Burnet found but little rest or comfort in 
 our old chair. Here he used to sit, dressed in a coat 
 which was made of rough, shaggy cloth outside, but 
 of smooth velvet within. It was said that his own 
 character resembled that coat ; for his outward man- 
 ner was rough, but his inward disposition soft and 
 kind. It is a pity that such a man could not have 
 been kept free from trouble. But so harassing were 
 his disputes with the representatives of the people that 
 he fell into a fever, of which he died in 1729. The 
 Legislature had refused him a salary while alive ; but 
 
THE REJECTED BLESSING. 103 
 
 they appropriated money enough to give him a splendid 
 and pompous funeral." 
 
 And now Grandfather perceived that little Alice 
 had fallen fast asleep, with her head upon his foot- 
 stool. Indeed, as Clara observed, she had been sleep- 
 ing from the time of Sir Hovenden Walker's expedition 
 against Quebec until the death of Governor Burnet, — 
 a period of about eighteen years. And yet, after so 
 long a nap, sweet little Alice was a golden-haired child 
 of scarcely five years old. 
 
 " It puts me in mind," said Laurence, " of the story 
 of the enchanted princess, who slept many a hundred 
 years, and awoke as young and beautiful as ever." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 POMPS AND VANITIES. 
 
 A FEW evenings afterwards, cousin Clara happened 
 to inquire of Grandfather whether the old chair had 
 never been present at a ball. At the same time little 
 Alice brought forward a doll, with whom she had been 
 holding a long conversation. 
 
 " See, Grandfather ! " cried she. " Did such a pretty 
 lady as this ever sit in your great chair ? " 
 
 These questions led Grandfather to talk about the 
 fashions and manners which now began to be in- 
 troduced from England into the provinces. The sim- 
 plicity of the good old Puritan times was fast 
 disappearing. This was partly owing to the increas- 
 ing number and wealth of the inhabitants, and to the 
 additions which they continually received by the ar- 
 rival and settlement of people from beyond the sea. 
 
 Another cause of a pompous and artificial mode of 
 life, among those who could afford it, was that the 
 example was set by the royal governors. Under the 
 old charter, the governors were the representatives of 
 the people, and therefore their way of living had prob- 
 ably been marked by a popular simplicity. But now, 
 as they represented the person of the king, they thought 
 it necessary to preserve the dignity of their station by 
 the practice of high and gorgeous ceremonials. And, 
 besides, the profitable offices under the government 
 were filled by men who had lived in London, and had 
 
POMPS AND VANITIES. 105 
 
 there contracted fashionable and luxurious habits of 
 living which they would not now lay asidco The 
 wealthy people of the province imitated them ; and 
 thus began a general change in social life. 
 
 " So, my dear Clara," said Grandfather, " after our 
 chair had entered the Province House, it must often 
 have been present at balls and festivals ; though I 
 cannot give you a description of any particular one. 
 But I doubt not that they were very magnificent ; and 
 slaves in gorgeous liveries waited on the guests, and 
 offered them wine in goblets of massive silver." 
 
 " Were there slaves in those days ! " exclaimed 
 Clara. 
 
 " Yes, black slaves and white," replied Grandfather. 
 "Our ancestors not only brought negroes from Africa, 
 but Indians from South America, and white people 
 Jrom Ireland. These last were sold, not for life, but 
 for a certain number of years, in order to pay the ex- 
 penses of their voyage across the Atlantic. Nothing 
 was more common than to see a lot of likely Irish 
 girls advertised for sale in the newspapers. As for 
 the little negro babies, they were offered to be given 
 away like young kittens." 
 
 " Perhaps Alice would have liked one to play with, 
 instead of her doll," said Charley, laughing. 
 
 But little Alice clasped the waxen doll closer to her 
 bosom. 
 
 " Now, as for this pretty doll, my little Alice," said 
 Grandfather, " I wish you could have seen what splen- 
 did dresses the ladies wore in those times. They had 
 silks, and satins, and damasks, and brocades, and 
 high head-dresses, and all sorts of fine things. And 
 they used to wear hooped petticoats of such enormous 
 size that it was quite a journey to walk round them." 
 
106 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " And how did the gentlemen dress ? " asked Char- 
 ley. 
 
 " With full as much magnificence as the ladies," an- 
 swered Grandfather. " For their holiday suits they 
 had coats of figured velvet, ciimson, green, blue, and 
 all other gay colors, embroidered with gold or silver 
 lace. Their waistcoats, which were five times as large 
 as modern ones, were very splendid. Sometimes the 
 whole waistcoat, which came down almost to the 
 knees, was made of gold brocade." 
 
 " Why, the wearer must have shone like a golden 
 image ! " said Clara. 
 
 "And then," continued Grandfather, "they wore 
 various sorts of periwigs, such as the tie, the Spencer, 
 the brigadier, the major, the Albemarle, the Eamillies, 
 the feather-top, and the full-bottom. Their three- 
 cornered hats were laced with gold or silver. They 
 had shining buckles at the knees of their small- 
 clothes, and buckles likewise in their shoes. They 
 wore swords with beautiful hilts, either of silver, or 
 sometimes of polished steel, inlaid with gold." 
 
 " Oh, I should like to wear a sword ! " cried Char- 
 ley. 
 
 " And an embroidered crimson velvet coat," said 
 Clara, laughing, " and a gold brocade waistcoat down 
 to your knees." 
 
 " And knee-buckles and shoe-buckles," said Lau- 
 rence, laughing also. 
 
 " And a periwig," added little Alice, soberly, not 
 knowing what was the article of dress which she rec- 
 ommended to our friend Charle3^ 
 
 Grandfather smiled at the idea of Charley's sturdy 
 little figure in such a grotesque caparison. He then 
 went on with the history of the chair, and told the 
 
POMPS AND VANITIES. 107 
 
 children that, in 1730, King George II. appointed 
 Jonathan Belcher ^ to be governor of Massachusetts 
 in place of the deceased Governor Burnet. Mr. 
 Belcher was a native of the province, but had spent 
 much of his life in Europe. 
 
 The new governor found Grandfather's chair in the 
 Province House. He was struck with its noble and 
 stately aspect, but was of opinion that age and hard 
 services had made it scarcely so fit for courtly com- 
 pany as when it stood in the Earl of Lincoln's hall. 
 Wherefore, as Governor Belcher was fond of splen- 
 dor, he employed a skilful artist to beautify the chair. 
 This was done by polishing and varnishing it, and by 
 gilding the carved work of the elbows, and likewise 
 the oaken flowers of the back. The lion's head now 
 shone like a veritable lump of gold. Finally Governor 
 Belcher gave the chair a cushion of blue damask, with 
 a rich golden fringe. 
 
 " Our good old chair being thus glorified," pro- 
 ceeded Grandfather, " it glittered with a great deal 
 more splendor than it had exhibited just a century 
 before, when the Lady Arbella brought it over from 
 England. Most people mistook it for a chair of the 
 latest London fashion. And this may serve for an 
 example, that there is almost always an old and time- 
 worn substance under aU the glittering show of new 
 invention." 
 
 " Grandfather, I cannot see any of the gilding," re- 
 marked Charley, who had been examining the chair 
 very minutely. 
 
 '' You will not wonder that it has been rubbed ofP," 
 replied Grandfather, " when you hear all the adven- 
 tures that have since befallen the chair. Gilded it 
 
 1 Auother of Hawthorne's stories, The Minister's Black Veil, 
 is told of the times of Governor Belcher. 
 
108 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 was ; and the handsomest room in the Province House 
 was adorned by it." 
 
 There was not much to interest the children in what 
 happened during the years that Governor Belcher re- 
 mained in the chair. At first, like Colonel Shute and 
 Governor Burnet, he was engaged in disputing with 
 the Legislature about his salary. But, as he found it 
 impossible to get a fixed sum, he finally obtained the 
 king's leave to accept whatever the Legislature chose 
 to give him. And thus the people triumphed, after 
 this long contest for the privilege of expending their 
 own money as they saw fit. 
 
 The remainder of Governor Belcher's term of office 
 was principally taken up in endeavoring to settle the 
 currency. Honest John Hull's pine-tree shillings had 
 long ago been worn out, or lost, or melted down 
 again ; and their place was supplied by bills of paper 
 or parchment, which were nominally valued at three- 
 pence and upwards. The value of these bills kept 
 continually sinking, because the real hard money 
 could not be obtained for them. They were a great 
 deal worse than the old Indian currency of clam-shells. 
 These disorders of the circulating medium were a 
 source of endless plague and perplexity to the rulers 
 and legislators, not only in Governor Belcher's days, 
 but for many years before and afterwards. 
 
 Finally the people suspected that Governor Belcher 
 was secretly endeavoring to establish the Episcopal 
 mode of worship in the provinces. There was enough 
 of the old Puritan spirit remaining to cause most of 
 the true sons of New England to look with horror 
 upon such an attemjDt. Great exertions were made to 
 induce the king to remove the governor. Accordingly, 
 in 1740, he was compelled to resign his office, and 
 Grandfather's chair into the bargain, to Mr. Shirley, 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PKOVINCIAL MUSTER. 
 
 "William Shirley," said Grandfather, "had 
 come from England a few years before, and begun to 
 practise law in Boston. You will think, perhaps, that, 
 as he had been a lawyer, the new governor used to sit 
 in our great chair reading heavy law-books from morn- 
 ing till night. On the contrary, he was as stirring 
 and active a governor as Massachusetts ever had. 
 Even Sir William Phips hardly equalled him. The 
 ^ first year or two of his administration was spent in 
 trying to regidate the currency. But in 1744, after a 
 peace of more than thirty years, war broke out between 
 France and England." 
 
 "And I sui^pose," said Charley, " the governor went 
 to take Canada." 
 
 " Not exactly, Charley," said Grandfather ; " though 
 you have made a pretty shrewd conjecture. He 
 planned, in 1745, an expedition against Louisburg. 
 This was a fortified city, on the island of Cape Bre- 
 ton, near Nova Scotia. Its walls were of immense 
 height and strength, and were defended by hundred? 
 of heavy cannon. It was the strongest fortress which 
 the French possessed in America ; and if the king of 
 France had guessed Governor Shirley's intentions, he 
 would have sent all the ships he could muster to pro- 
 tect it." 
 
 As the siege of Louisburg was one of the most 
 
110 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 remarkable events that ever the inhabitants of New 
 England were engaged in, Grandfather endeavored to 
 give his auditors a lively idea of the spirit with which 
 they set about it. We shall call his description The 
 Provincial Muster. 
 
 The expedition against Louisburg first began to be 
 thought of in the month of January. From that time 
 the governor's chair was continually surrounded by 
 councillors, representatives, clergymen, captains, pilots, 
 and all manner of people, with whom he consulted 
 about this wonderful project. 
 
 First of all, it was necessary to provide men and 
 arms. The Legislature immediately sent out a huge 
 quantity of paper-money, with which, as if by magic 
 spell, the governor hoped to get possession of all the 
 old cannon, powder and balls, rusty swords and mus- 
 kets, and everything else that would be serviceable 
 in killing Frenchmen. Drums were beaten in all 
 the villages of Massachusetts to enlist soldiers for the 
 service. Messages were sent to the other governors of 
 New England, and to New York and Pennsylvania, 
 entreating them to unite in this crusade against the 
 French. All these provinces agreed to give what as- 
 sistance they could. 
 
 But there was one very important thing to be de- 
 cided. Who shall be the general of this great army ? 
 Peace had continued such an unusual length of time 
 that there was now less military experience among the 
 colonists than at any former period. The old Puritans 
 had always kept their weapons bright, and were never 
 destitute of warlike captains who were skilful in as- 
 sault or defence. But the swords of their descendents 
 had grown rusty by disuse. There was nobody in New 
 England that knew anything about sieges or any other 
 
THE PROVINCE HOUSE, BOSTON 
 Bought in 1715 by the Province as a residence for the Royal Goyernors- 
 
THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. Ill 
 
 regular figliting. The only persons at all acquainted 
 with warlike business were a few elderly men, who had 
 hunted Indians through the underbrush of the forest 
 in old Governor Dummer's War. 
 
 In this dilemma Governor Shirley fixed upon a 
 wealthy merchant, named William Pepperell, who 
 was pretty well known and liked among the people. 
 As to military skill, he had no more of it than his 
 neighbors. But, as the governor urged him very 
 pressingly, Mr. Pepperell consented to shut up his 
 ledger, gird on a sword, and assume the title of 
 general. 
 
 Meantime, what a hubbub was raised by this scheme ! 
 Rub-a-dub-dub ! rub-a-dub-dub ! The rattle of drums, 
 beaten out of all manner of time, was heard above 
 every other sound. 
 
 Nothing now was so valuable as arms, of whatever 
 style and fashion they might be. The bellows blew, 
 and the hammer clanged continually upon the anvil, 
 while the blacksmiths were repairing the broken weap- 
 ons of other wars. Doubtless some of the soldiers 
 lugged out those enormous, heavy muskets which used 
 to be fired, with rests, in the time of the early Puri- 
 tans. Great horse-pistols, too, were found, which 
 would go off with a bang like a cannon. Old can- 
 non, with touchholes almost as big as their muzzles, 
 were looked upon as inestimable treasures. Pikes 
 which, perhaps, had been handled by Miles Standish's 
 soldiers, now made their appearance again. Many a 
 young man ransacked the garret and brought forth 
 his great-grandfather's sword, corroded with rust and 
 stained with the blood of King Philip's War. 
 
 Never had there been such an arming as this, when 
 a people, so long peaceful, rose to the war with the 
 
112 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 best weapons that they could lay their hands upon. 
 And still the drums were heard — rub-a-dub-dub ! 
 rub-a-dub-dub ! — in all the towns and villages ; and 
 louder and more numerous grew the trampling foot- 
 steps of the recruits that marched behind. 
 
 And now the army began to gather into Boston. 
 Tall, lanky, awkward fellows came in squads, and 
 companies, and regiments, swaggering along, dressed 
 in their brown homespun clothes and blue yarn stock- 
 ings. They stooped as if they still had hold of the 
 plough-handles, and marched without any time or 
 tune. Hither they came, from the cornfields, from 
 the clearing in the forest, from the blacksmith's forge, 
 from the carpenter's workshop, and from the shoe- 
 maker's seat. They were an army of rough faces and 
 sturdy frames. A trained officer of Europe would 
 have laughed at them till his sides had ached. But 
 there was a spirit in their bosoms which is more 
 essential to soldiership than to wear red coats and 
 march in stately ranks to the sound of regular music. 
 
 Still was heard the beat of the drum, — rub-a-dub- 
 dub ! And now a host of three or four thousand men 
 had found their way to Boston. Little quiet was 
 there then ! Forth scampered the school-boys, shout- 
 ing behind the drums. The whole town, the whole 
 land, was on fire with war. 
 
 After the arrival of the troops, they were probably 
 reviewed upon the Common. We may imagine Gov- 
 ernor Shirley and General Pepperell riding slowly 
 along the line, while the drummers beat strange old 
 tunes, like psalm-tunes, and all the officers and soldiers 
 put on their most warlike looks. It would have been 
 a terrible sight for the Frenchmen, could they but 
 have witnessed it I 
 
THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 113 
 
 At length, on the 24th of March, 1745, the army 
 gave a parting shout, and set sail from Boston in ten 
 or twelve vessels which had been hired by the gov- 
 ernor. A few days afterwards an English fleet, com- 
 manded by Commodore Peter Warren, sailed also for 
 Louisburg to assist the provincial army. So now, 
 after all this bustle of preparation, the town and 
 province were left in stillness and repose. 
 
 But stillness and repose, at such a time of anxious 
 expectation, are hard to bear. The hearts of the old 
 people and women sunk within them when they re- 
 flected what perils they had sent their sons, and hus- 
 bands, and brothers to encounter. The boys loitered 
 heavily to school, missing the rub-a-dub-dub and the 
 trampling march, in the rear of which they had so 
 lately run and shouted. All the ministers prayed 
 earnestly in their pulpits for a blessing on the army 
 of New England. In every family, when the good 
 man lifted up his heart in domestic worship, the bur- 
 den of his petition was for the safety of those dear 
 ones who were fighting under the walls of Louisburg. 
 
 Governor Shirley all this time was probably in an 
 ecstasy of impatience. He could not sit still a mo- 
 ment. He found no quiet, not even in Grandfather's 
 chair ; but hurried to and fro, and up and down the 
 staircase of the Province House. Now he mounted to 
 the cupola and looked seaward, straining his eyes to 
 discover if there were a sail upon the horizon. Nov? 
 he hastened down the stairs, and stood beneath the 
 portal, on the red free-stone steps, to receive some 
 mud-bespattered courier, from whom he hoped to hear 
 tidings of the army. A few weeks after the depar- 
 ture of the troops. Commodore Warren sent a small 
 vessel to Boston with two French prisoners. One of 
 
114 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 them was Monsieur Bouladrie, who had been com- 
 mander of a battery outside the walls of Louisburg. 
 The other was the Marquis de la Maison Forte, cap- 
 tain of a French frigate which had been taken by 
 Commodore Warren's fleet. These prisoners assured 
 Governor Shirley that the fortifications of Louisburg 
 were far too strong ever to be stormed by the provin- 
 cial army. 
 
 Day after day and week after week went on. The 
 people grew almost heart-sick with anxiety ; for the 
 flower of the country was at peril in this adventurous 
 expedition. It was now daybreak on the morning of 
 the 3d of July. 
 
 But hark ! what sound is this ? The hurried clang 
 of a bell ! There is the Old North pealing suddenly 
 out ! — there the Old South strikes in ! — now the peal 
 comes from the church in Brattle Street ! — the bells 
 of nine or ten steeples are all flinging their iron voices 
 at once upon the morning breeze ! Is it joy, or alarm ? 
 There goes the roar of a cannon too ! A royal salute 
 is thundered forth. And now we hear the loud exult- 
 ing shout of a multitude assembled in the street. 
 Huzza ! huzza ! Louisburg has surrendered ! Huzza ! 
 
 " O Grandfather, how glad I should have been to 
 live in those times ! " cried Charley. " And what re- 
 ward did the king give to General Pepperell and 
 Governor Shirley?" 
 
 " He made Pepperell a baronet ; so that he was 
 now to be called Sir William PeppereU," replied 
 Grandfather. " He likewise appointed both Pepperell 
 and Shirley to be colonels in the royal army. These 
 rewards, and higher ones, were well deserved ; for this 
 was the greatest triumph that the English met with in 
 
THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 115 
 
 the whole course of that war. General Pepperell be- 
 came a man of great fame. I have seen a full-length 
 portrait of him, representing him in a splendid scarlet 
 uniform, standing before the walls of Louisburg, while 
 several bombs are falling through the air." 
 
 "But did the country gain any real good by the 
 conquest of Louisburg ? " asked Laurence. " Or was 
 all the benefit reaped by Pepperell and Shirley ? " 
 
 "The English Parliament," replied Grandfather, 
 " agreed to pay the colonists for all the expenses of 
 the siege. Accordingly, in 1749, two hundred and 
 fifteen chests of Spanish dollars and one hundred 
 casks of copper coin were brought from England to 
 Boston. The whole amount was about a million of 
 dollars. Twenty-seven carts and trucks carried this 
 money from the wharf to the provincial treasury. 
 Was not this a pretty liberal reward ? " 
 
 " The mothers of the young men who were killed 
 at the siege of Louisburg would not have thought it 
 so," said Laurence. 
 
 " No, Laurence," rejoined Grandfather ; " and every 
 warlike achievement involves an amount of physical 
 and moral evil, for which all the gold in the Spanish 
 mines would not be the slightest recompense. But 
 we are to consider that this siege was one of the oc- 
 casions on which the colonists tested their ability for 
 war, and thus were prepared for the great contest of 
 the Revolution. In that point of view, the valor of 
 our forefathers was its own reward." 
 
 Grandfather went on to say that the success of the 
 expedition against Louisburg induced Shirley and 
 Pepperell to form a scheme for conquering Canada. 
 This plan, however, was not carried into execution. 
 
 In the year 1746 great terror was excited by the 
 
116 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 arrival of a formidable Frencli fleet upon the coast. 
 It was commanded by tlie Duke d'Anville, and con- 
 sisted of forty ships of war, besides vessels with sol- 
 diers on board. With this force the French intended 
 to retake Louisburg, and afterwards to ravage the 
 whole of New England. Many people were ready to 
 give up the country for lost. 
 
 But the hostile fleet met with so many disasters and 
 losses by storm and shipwreck, that the Duke d'An- 
 ville is said to have poisoned himself in despair. The 
 officer next in command threw himself upon his sword 
 and perished. Thus deprived of their commanders, 
 the remainder of the ships returned to France. This 
 was as great a deliverence for New England as that 
 which Old England had experienced in the days of 
 Queen Elizabeth, when the Spanish Armada was 
 wrecked upon her coast.^ 
 
 " In 1747," proceeded Grandfather, " Governor Shir- 
 ley was driven from the Province House, not by a 
 hostile fleet and army, but by a mob of the Boston 
 people. They were so incensed at the conduct of the 
 British Commodore Knowles, who had impressed some 
 of their fellow-citizens, that several thousands of them 
 surrounded the council chamber and threw stones and 
 brickbats into the windows. The governor attempted 
 to pacify them; but not succeeding, he thought it 
 necessary to leave the town and take refuge within 
 the walls of Castle William. Quiet was not restored 
 until Commodore Knowles had sent back the impressed 
 men. This affair was a flash of spirit that might have 
 warned the English not to venture upon any oppres- 
 sive measures against their colonial brethren." 
 
 ^ Longfellow's poem A Ballad of the French Fleet is based on 
 this incident. 
 
THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 117 
 
 Peace being declared between France and England 
 in 1748, the governor had now an opportunity to sit 
 at his ease in Grandfather's chair. Such repose, how- 
 ever, appears not to have suited his disposition ; for 
 in the following year he went to England, and thence 
 was despatched to France on public business. Mean- 
 while, as Shirley had not resigned his office, Lieu- 
 tenant-Governor Phips acted as chief magistrate m 
 his stead. 
 
CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 THE OLD FRENCH WAR AND THE ACADIAN EXILES. 
 
 In the early twilight of Thanksgiving Eve came 
 Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice, 
 hand in hand, and stood in a semicircle round Grand- 
 father's chair. They had been joyous throughout that 
 day of festivity, mingling together in all kinds of play, 
 so that the house had echoed with their airy mirth. 
 
 Grandfather, too, had been happy though not mirth- 
 ful. He felt that this was to be set down as one of 
 the good Thanksgivings of his life. In truth, all his 
 former Thanksgivings had borne their part in the 
 present one ; for his years of infancy, and youth, and 
 manhood, with their blessings and their griefs, had 
 flitted before him while he sat silently in the great 
 chair. Vanished scenes had been pictured in the 
 air. The forms of departed friends had visited him. 
 Voices to be heard no more on earth had sent an echo 
 from the infinite and the eternal. These shadows, if 
 such they were, seemed almost as real to him as what 
 was actually present, — as the merry shouts and laugh- 
 ter of the children, — as their figures, dancing like 
 sunshine before his eyes. 
 
 He felt that the past was not taken from him. The 
 happiness of former days was a possession forever. 
 And there was something in the mingled sorrow of his 
 lifetime that became akin to happiness, after being 
 long treasured in the depths of his heart. There it 
 
THE OLD FRENCH WAR. 119 
 
 underwent a change, and grew more precious than 
 pure gold. 
 
 And now came the children, somewhat aweary with 
 their wild play, and sought the quiet enjoyment of 
 Grandfather's talk. The good old gentleman rubbed 
 his eyes and smiled round upon them all. He was 
 glad, as most aged people are, to find that he was yet 
 of consequence, and could give pleasure to the world. 
 After being so merry all day long, did these children 
 desire to hear his sober talk? Oh, then, old Grand- 
 father had yet a place to fill among living men, — or 
 at least among boys and girls ! 
 
 " Begin quick. Grandfather," cried little Alice ; 
 " for pussy wants to hear you." 
 
 And truly our yellow friend, the cat, lay upon the 
 hearth-rug, basking in the warmth of the fire, prick- 
 ing up her ears, and turning her head from the chil- 
 dren to Grandfather, and from Grandfather to the 
 children as if she felt herself very sympathetic with 
 them all. A loud purr, like the singing of a tea-ket- 
 tle or the hum of a spinning-wheel, testified that she 
 was as comfortable and happy as a cat could be. For 
 puss had feasted ; and therefore, like Grandfather and 
 the children, had kept a good Thanksgiving. 
 
 " Does pussy want to hear me? " said Grandfather, 
 smiling. " Well, we must please pussy, if we can." 
 
 And so he took up the history of the chair from the 
 epoch of the peace of 1748. By one of the provisions 
 of the treaty, Louisburg, which the New-Englanders 
 had been at so much pains to take, was restored to the 
 King of France. 
 
 The French were afraid that, unless their colonies 
 should be better defended than heretofore, another 
 war might deprive them of the whole. Almost as 
 
120 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 soon as peace was declared, therefore, they began to 
 build strong fortifications in the interior of North 
 America. It was strange to behold these warlike cas- 
 tles on the banks of solitary lakes and far in the midst 
 of woods. The Indian, paddling his birch canoe on 
 Lake Champlain, looked up at the high ramparts of 
 Ticonderoga, stone piled on stone, bristling with can- 
 non, and the white flag of France floating above. 
 There were similar fortifications on Lake Ontario, and 
 near the great Falls of Niagara, and at the sources of 
 the Ohio River. And all around these forts and 
 castles lay the eternal forest, and the roll of the drum 
 died away in those deep solitudes. 
 
 The truth was, that the French intended to build 
 forts all the way from Canada to Louisiana. They 
 would then have had a wall of military strength at the 
 back of the English settlements so as completely to 
 hem them in. The King of England considered the 
 building of these forts as a sufficient cause of war, 
 which was accordingly commenced in 1754. 
 
 *' Governor Shirley," said Grandfather, " had re- 
 turned to Boston in 1753. While in Paris he had 
 married a second wife, a young French girl, and now 
 brought her to the Province House. But when war 
 was breaking out it was impossible for such a bustling 
 man to stay quietly at home, sitting in our old chair, 
 with his wife and children round about him. He 
 therefore obtained a command in the English forces.'' 
 
 " And what did Sir William Pepperell do ? " asked 
 Charley. 
 
 " He stayed at home," said Grandfather, " and was 
 general of the militia. The veteran regiments of the 
 English army which were now sent across the Atlantic 
 would have scorned to fight under the orders of an old 
 
THE OLD FRENCH WAR. 121 
 
 American merchant. And now began what aged peo- 
 ple call the old French War. It would be going too 
 far astray from the history of our chair to tell you one 
 half of the battles that were fought. I cannot CA^en 
 allow myself to describe the bloody defeat of General 
 Braddock, near the sources of the Ohio River, in 1755. 
 But I must not omit to mention that, when the Eng- 
 lish general was mortally wounded and his army 
 routed, the remains of it were preserved by the skill 
 and valor of George Washington." 
 
 At the mention of this illustrious name the children 
 started as if a sudden sunlight had gleamed upon the 
 history of their country, now that the great deliverer 
 had arisen above the horizon. 
 
 Among all the events of the old French War, Grand- 
 father thought that there was none more interesting 
 than the removal of the inhabitants of Acadia. From 
 the first settlement of this ancient province of the 
 French, in 1604, until the present time, its people 
 could scarcely ever know what kingdom held domin- 
 ion over them. They were a peaceful race, taking 
 no delight in warfare, and caring nothing for military 
 renown. And yet, in every war, their region was in- 
 fested with iron-hearted soldiers, both French and Eng- 
 lish, who fought one another for the privilege of ill- 
 treating these poor, harmless Acadians. Sometimes 
 the treaty of peace made them subjects of one king, 
 sometimes of another. 
 
 At the peace of 1748 Acadia had been ceded to Eng- 
 land. But the French still claimed a large portion of 
 it, and built forts for its defence. In 1755 these forts 
 were taken, and the whole of Acadia was conquered 
 by three thousand men from Massachusetts, under the 
 command of General Winslow. The inhabitants were 
 
122 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 accused of supplyinj^ the Frencli witli provisions, and 
 of doing other things that violated their neutrality. 
 
 " These accusations were probably true," observed 
 Grandfather ; *' for the Acadians were descended from 
 the French, and had the same friendly feelings towards 
 them that the people of Massachusetts had for the 
 English. But their punishment was severe. The Eng- 
 lish determined to tear these poor people from their 
 native homes and scatter them abroad." 
 
 The Acadians were about seven thousand in num- 
 ber. A considerable part of them were made pris- 
 oners, and transported to the English colonies. All 
 their dwellings and churches were burned, their cat- 
 tle were killed, and the whole country was laid waste, 
 so that none of them might find shelter or food in 
 their old homes after the departure of the English. 
 One thousand of the prisoners were sent to Massachu- 
 setts ; ^ and Grandfather allowed his fancy to follow 
 them thither, and tried to give his auditors an idea 
 of their situation. 
 
 We shall call this passage the story of 
 
 THE ACADIAN EXILES. 
 
 A sad day it was for the poor Acadians when the 
 armed soldiers drove them, at the point of the bayonet, 
 down to the sea-shore. Very sad were they, likewise, 
 while tossing upon the ocean in the crowded transport 
 
 ^ Although Longfellow's Evangeline will be read by all, and 
 be remembered as the affecting tale of the Acadian exiles, it .is 
 worth while to read also a contemporaneous narrative, and the 
 appendix to this part contains an extract from Haliburton's 
 Historical and Statistical Account of Nova Scotia, the book to 
 which Hawthorne and Longfellow resorted for their informa- 
 tion. 
 
'Ssa4t^3P"'^'^^°' - 
 
124 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 vessels. But metliinks it must have been sadder still 
 when they were landed on the Long Wharf in Boston, 
 and left to themselves on a foreign strand. 
 
 Then, probably, they huddled together and looked 
 into one another's faces for the comfort which was not 
 there. Hitherto they had been confined on board of 
 separate vessels, so that they could not tell whether 
 their relatives and friends were 23risoners along with 
 them. But now, at least, they could tell that many 
 had been left behind or transported to other regions. 
 
 Now a desolate wife mi^i^ht be heard callinof for her 
 husband. He, alas ! had gone, she knew not whither ; 
 or perhaps had fled into the woods of Acadia, and had 
 now returned to weep over the ashes of their dwelling. 
 
 An aged widow was crying out in a querulous, lam- 
 entable tone for her son, whose affectionate toil had 
 supported her for many a year. He was not in the 
 crowd of exiles ; and what could this aged widow do 
 but sink down and die ? Young men and maidens, 
 whose hearts had been torn asunder by separation, had 
 hoped, during the voyage, to meet their beloved ones 
 at its close. Now they began to feel that they were 
 separated forever. And perhaps a lonesome little girl, 
 a golden-haired child of five years old, the very picture 
 of our little Alice, was weeping and wailing for her 
 mother, and found not a soul to give her a kind 
 word. 
 
 Oh, how many broken bonds of affection were here ! 
 Country lost, — friends lost, — their rural wealth of 
 cottage, field, and herds all lost together ! Every tie 
 between these poor exiles and the world seemed to be 
 cut oif at once. They must have regretted that they 
 had not died before their exile ; for even the English 
 would not have been so pitiless as to deny them graves 
 
THE ACADIAN EXILES. 125 
 
 in their native soil. The dead were happy ; for they 
 were not exiles ! 
 
 While they thus stood upon the wharf, the curios- 
 ity and inquisitiveness of the New England people 
 would naturally lead them into the midst of the poor 
 Acadian s. Prying busybodies thrust their heads into 
 the circle wherever two or three of the exiles were con- 
 versing together. How puzzled did they look at the 
 outlandish sound of the French tongue ! There were 
 seen the New England women, too. They had just 
 come out of their warm, safe homes, where everything 
 was regular and comfortable, and where their hus- 
 bands and children would be with them at nightfall. 
 Surely they could pity the wretched wives and mothers 
 of Acadia ! Or did the sign of the cross which the 
 Acadians continually made upon their breasts, and 
 which was abhorred by the descendants of the Puri- 
 tans, — did that sign exclude all pity ? ^ 
 
 Among the spectators, too, was the noisy brood of 
 Boston school-boys, who came running, with laughter 
 and shouts, to gaze at this crowd of oddly dressed for- 
 eigners. At first they danced and cajiered around 
 them, full of merriment and mischief. But the de- 
 spair of the Acadians soon had its effect upon these 
 thoughtless lads, and melted them into tearful sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 At a little distance from the throng might be seen 
 the wealthy and pompous merchants whose warehouses 
 stood on Long Wharf. It was difficult to touch these 
 rich men's hearts ; for they had all the comforts of 
 the world at their command ; and when they walked 
 abroad their feelings were seldom moved, except by 
 the roughness of the pavement irritating their gouty 
 1 See Whittier's poem Marguerite. 
 
128 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 toes. Leaning upon their gold-lieacled canes, they 
 watched the Gcene with an aspect of composure. But 
 let us hope they distributed some of their superfluous 
 coin among these hapless exiles to purchase food and 
 a night's lodging. 
 
 After standing a long time at the end of the wharf, 
 gazing seaward, as if to catch a glimpse of their lost 
 Acadia, the strangers began to stray into the town. 
 
 They went, we will suppose, in parties and groups, 
 here a hundred, there a score, there ten, there three or 
 four, who possessed some bond of unity among them- 
 selves. Here and there was one who, utterly desolate, 
 stole away by himself, seeking no companionship. 
 
 Whither did they go ? I imagine them wandering 
 about the streets, telling the townspeople, in outland- 
 ish, unintelligible words, that no earthly affliction ever 
 equalled what had befallen them. Man's brotherhood 
 with man was sufficient to make the New-Englanders 
 understand this language. The strangers wanted food. 
 Some of them sought hospitality at the doors of the 
 stately mansions which then stood in the vicinity of 
 Hanover Street and the North Square. Others were 
 applicants at the humble wooden tenements, where 
 dwelt the petty shopkeepers and mechanics. Pray 
 Heaven that no family in Boston turned one of these 
 poor exiles from their door ! It would be a reproach 
 upon New England, — a crime worthy of heavy retri- 
 bution, — if the aged women and children, or even the 
 strong men, were allowed to feel the pinch of hunger. 
 
 Perhaps some of the Acadians, in their aimless wan- 
 derings through the town, found themselves near a 
 large brick edifice, which was fenced in from the street 
 by an iron railing, wrought with fantastic figures. 
 They saw a flight of red freestone steps ascending to 
 
THE ACADIAN EXILES. 127 
 
 a portal, above whicli was a balcony and balustrade. 
 Misery and desolation give men the right of free pas- 
 sage everywhere. Let us suppose, then, that they 
 mounted the flight of steps and passed into the Prov- 
 ince House. Making their way into one of the apart- 
 ments, they beheld a richly-clad gentleman, seated in a 
 stately chair, with gilding upon the carved work of its 
 back, and a gilded lion's head at the summit. This 
 was Governor Shirley, meditating upon matters of 
 war and state, in Grandfather's chair ! 
 
 If such an incident did happen, Shirley, reflecting 
 what a ruin of peaceful and humble hopes had been 
 •wi'ought b}^ the, cold policy of the statesman and the 
 iron hand of the warrior, might have drawn a deep 
 moral from it. It should have taught him that the 
 poor man's hearth is sacred, and that armies and 
 ^nations have no right to violate it. It should have 
 made him feel that England's triumph and increased 
 dominion could not compensate to mankind nor atone 
 to Heaven for the ashes of a single Acadian cottage. 
 But it is not thus that statesmen and warriors mor- 
 alize. 
 
 " Grandfather," cried Laurence, witb emotion trem- 
 bling in his voice, "did iron-hearted War itself ever 
 do so hard and cruel a thing as this before ? " 
 
 "You have read in history, Laurence, of whole 
 regions wantonly laid waste," said Grandfather. " In 
 the removal of the Acadians, the troops were guilty of 
 no cruelty or outrage, except what was inseparable 
 from the measure." 
 
 ' Little Alice, whose eyes had all along been brim- 
 ming full of tears, now burst forth a-sobbing ; for 
 Grandfather had touched her sympathies more than he 
 intended. 
 
128 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " To think of a whole people homeless in the world ! " 
 said Clara, with moistened eyes. " There never was 
 anything so sad ! " 
 
 " It was their own fault ! " cried Charley, energeti- 
 cally. " Why did not they fight for the country where 
 they were born ? Then, if the worst had happened to 
 them, they could only have been killed and buried 
 there. They would not have been exiles then." 
 
 " Certainly their lot was as hard as death," said 
 Grandfather. " All that could be done for them in 
 the English provinces was, to send them to the alms- 
 houses, or bind them out to taskmasters. And this 
 was the -fate of persons who had possessed a comfort- 
 able property in their native country. Some of them 
 found means to embark for France ; but though it was 
 the land of their forefathers, it must have been a for- 
 eign land to them. Those who remained behind al- 
 ways cherished a belief that the King of France would 
 never make peace with England till his poor Acadians 
 were restored to their country and their homes." 
 
 " And did he ? " inquired Clara. 
 
 " Alas ! my dear Clara," said Grandfather, " it is 
 improbable that the slightest whisper of the woes of 
 Acadia ever reached the ears of Louis XV. The ex- 
 iles grew old in the British provinces, and never saw 
 Acadia again. Their descendants remain among us to 
 this day. They have forgotten the language of their 
 ancestors, and probably retain no tradition of their 
 misfortunes. But, methinks, if I were an American 
 poet, I would choose Acadia for the subject of my 
 song." 
 
 Since Grandfather first spoke these words, the most 
 famous of American poets has drawn sweet tears from 
 all of us by his beautiful poem Evangeline. 
 
THE ACADIAN EXILES. 129 
 
 And now, having thrown a gentle gloom around the 
 Thanksgiving fireside by a story that made the chil- 
 dren feel the blessing of a secure and peaceful hearth, 
 Grandfather put off the other events of the old French 
 War till the next evening. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE END OF THE WAR. 
 
 In the twiliglit of tlie succeeding eve, when the red 
 beams of the fire were dancing upon the wall, the chil- 
 dren besouo:ht Grandfather to tell them what had next 
 happened to the old chair. 
 
 *' Our chair," said Grandfather, " stood all this 
 time in the Province House. But Governor Shirley 
 had seldom an opportunity to repose within its arms. 
 He was leading his troops through the forest, or sail- 
 ing in a flat-boat on Lake Ontario, or sleeping in his 
 tent, while the awful cataract of Niagara sent its roar 
 through his dreams. At one period, in the early part 
 of the war, Shirley had the chief command of all the 
 king's forces in America." 
 
 "Did his young wife go with him to the war?" 
 asked Clara. 
 
 " I rather imagine," replied Grandfather, " that she 
 remained in Boston. This lady, T suppose, had our 
 chair all to herself, and used to sifc in it during those 
 brief intervals when a young Frenchwoman can be 
 quiet enough to sit in a chair. The people of Massa- 
 chusetts were never fond of Governor Shirley's young 
 French wife. They had a suspicion that she betrayed 
 the military plans of the English to the generals of 
 the French armies." 
 
 " And was it true ? " inquired Clara. 
 
 " Probably not," said Grandfather. " But the mere 
 
THE END OF THE WAR. 131 
 
 suspicion did Sliirley a great deal of harm. Partly, 
 perhaps, for this reason, but much more on account of 
 his inefficiency as a general, he was deprived of his 
 command in 1756, and recalled to England. He 
 never afterwards made any figure in public life." 
 
 As Grandfather's chair had no locomotive proper- 
 ties, and did not even run on castors, it cannot be sup- 
 posed to have marched in person to the old French 
 War. But Grandfather delayed its momentous his- 
 tory while he touched briefly upon some of the bloody 
 battles, sieges, and onslaughts, the tidings of which 
 kept continually coming to the ears of the old inhabi- 
 tants of Boston. The woods of the North were popu- 
 lous with fighting men. All the Indian tribes uplifted 
 their tomahawks, and took j^art either with the French 
 or English. The rattle of musketry and roar of cau- 
 tion disturbed the ancient quiet of the forest, and ac- 
 tually drove the bears and other wild beasts to the 
 more cultivated portion of the country in the vicinity 
 of the seaports. The children felt as if they were 
 transported back to those forgotten times, and that the 
 couriers from the army, with the news of a battle lost 
 or won, might even now be heard galloping through 
 the streets. Grandfather told them about the battle 
 of Lake George in 1755, when the gallant Colonel 
 Williams,^ a Massachusetts officer, was slain, with 
 many of his countrymen. But General Johnson and 
 General Lyman, with their army, drove back the 
 enemy and mortally wounded the French leader, who 
 was called the Baron Dieskau. A gold watch, pilfered 
 from the poor baron, is still in existence, and still 
 marks each moment of time without com23laining of 
 
 ^ Colonel Ephraim Williams in his will bequeathed money 
 to endow a school which became Williams College. 
 
132 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 weariness, althongli its liands have been in motion 
 ever since the hour of battle. 
 
 In the first years of the war there were many dis- 
 asters on the English side. Among these was the loss 
 of Fort Oswego in 1756, and of Fort William Henry 
 in the following year. But the greatest misfortune 
 that befell the English during the whole war was the 
 repulse of General Abercrombie, with his army, from 
 the ramparts of Ticonderoga in 1758.^ He attempted 
 to storm the walls ; but a terrible conflict ensued, in 
 which more than two thousand Englishmen and New- 
 Englanders were killed or wounded. The slain sol- 
 diers now lie buried around that ancient fortress. 
 When the plough passes over the soil, it turns up 
 here and there a mouldering bone. 
 
 Up to this period, none of the English generals had 
 shown any military talent. Shirley, the Earl of Lou- 
 don, and General Abercrombie had each held the chief 
 command at different times ; but not one of them had 
 won a single important triumph for the British arms. 
 This ill success was not owing to the want of means ; 
 for, in 1758, General Abercrombie had fifty thousand 
 soldiers under his command. But the French general, 
 the famous Marquis de Montcalm, possessed a great 
 genius for war, and had something within him that 
 taught him how battles were to be won. 
 
 At length, in 1759, Sir Jeffrey Amherst was ap- 
 pointed commander-in-chief of all the British forces in 
 America. He was a man of ability and a skilful sol- 
 dier. A plan was now formed for accomplishing that 
 object which had so long been the darling wish of 
 the New-Englanders, and which their fathers had so 
 
 1 See Hawthorne's Old Ticonderoga, which may be found in 
 Riverside Literature Series, No. 40. 
 
THE END OF THE WAR. 133 
 
 many times attempted. This was the conquest of 
 Canada. 
 
 Three separate armies were to enter Canada from 
 different quarters. One of the three, commanded by 
 General Prideaux, was to embark on Lake Ontario 
 and proceed to Montreal. The second, at the head of 
 which was Sir Jeffrey Amherst himself, was destined 
 to reach the river St. Lawrence by the way of Lake 
 Champlain, and then go down the river to meet the 
 third army. This last, led by General Wolfe, was to 
 enter the St. Lawrence from the sea and ascend the 
 river to Quebec. It is to Wolfe and his army that 
 England owes one of the most splendid triumphs ever 
 written in her history. 
 
 Grandfather described the siege of Quebec, and told 
 how Wolfe led his soldiers up a rugged and lofty 
 precipice, that rose from the shore of the river to the 
 plain on which the city stood. This bold adventure 
 was achieved in the darkness of night. At daybreak 
 tidings were carried to the Marquis de Montcalm that 
 the English army was waiting to give him battle on 
 the Plains of Abraham. This brave French general 
 ordered his drums to strike up, and immediately 
 marched to encounter Wolfe. 
 
 He marched to his own death. The battle was the 
 most fierce and terrible that had ever been fought in 
 America. General Wolfe was at the head of his sol- 
 diers, and, while encouraging them onward, received 
 a mortal wound. He reclined against a stone in the 
 agonies of death ; but it seemed as if his spirit could 
 not pass away while the fight yet raged so doubtfully. 
 Suddenly a shout came pealing across the battle-field. 
 " They flee ! they flee ! " and, for a moment, Wolfe 
 lifted his languid head. " Who flee ? " he inquired. 
 
134 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " The French," replied an officer. " Then I die satis- 
 fied ! " said Wolfe, and expired in the arms of victory. 
 
 " If ever a warrior's death were glorious, Wolfe's 
 was so," said Grandfather ; and his eye kindled, though 
 he was a man of peaceful thoughts and gentle spirit. 
 '* His life-blood streamed to baptize the soil which he 
 had added to the dominion of Britain. His dying 
 breath was mingled with his army's shout of vic- 
 tory." 
 
 " Oh, it was a good death to die ! " cried Charley, 
 with glistening eyes. " Was it not a good death, Lau- 
 rence ? " 
 
 Laurence made no reply ; for his heart burned 
 within him, as the picture of Wolfe, dying on the 
 blood-stained field of victory, arose to his imagination ; 
 and yet he had a deep inward consciousness that, after 
 all, there was a truer glory than could thus be won. 
 
 " There were other battles in Canada after Wolfe's 
 victory," resumed Grandfather ; " but we may consider 
 the old French War as having terminated with this 
 great event. The treaty of peace, however, was not 
 signed until 1763. The terms of the treaty were very 
 disadvantageous to the French ; for all Canada, and 
 all Acadia, and the Island of Cape Breton, — in short, 
 all the territories that France and England had been 
 fighting about for nearly a hundred years, — were sur- 
 rendered to the English." 
 
 " So now, at last," said Laurence, " New England 
 had gained her wish. Canada was taken." 
 
 " And now there was nobody to fight with but the 
 Indians," said Charley. 
 
 Grandfather mentioned two other important events. 
 The first was the great fire of Boston in 1760, when 
 the glare from nearly three hundred buildings, all in 
 
THE END OF THE WAR. 135 
 
 flames at once, shone tlirough the windows of the Prov- 
 ince House, and threw a fierce lustre upon the gilded 
 foliage and lion's head of our old chair. The second 
 event was the proclamation, in the same year, of 
 George III. as King of Great Britain. The blast of 
 the trumpet sounded from the balcony of the Town 
 House, and awoke the echoes far and wide, as if to 
 challenge all mankind to dispute King George's title. 
 Seven times, as the successive monarchs of Britain 
 ascended the throne, the trumpet peal of proclamation 
 had been heard by those who sat in our venerable 
 chair. But when the next king put on his father's 
 crown, no trumpet peal proclaimed it to New England. 
 Long before that day America had shaken off the 
 royal government. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 
 
 Now that Grandfather had fought through the old 
 French War, in which our chair made no very distin- 
 guished figure, he thought it high time to tell the chil- 
 dren some of the more private history of that praise- 
 worthy old piece of furniture. 
 
 " In 1757," said Grandfather, " after Shirley had 
 been summoned to England, Thomas Pownall was ap- 
 pointed governor of Massachusetts. He was a gay 
 and fashionable English gentleman, who had spent 
 much of his life in London, but had a considerable 
 acquaintance with America. The new governor ap- 
 pears to have taken no active part in the war that was 
 going on ; although, at one period, he talked of march- 
 ing against the enemy at the head of his company of 
 cadets. But, on the whole, he probably concluded 
 that it was more befitting a governor to remain quietly 
 in our chair, reading the newspapers and official docu- 
 ments." 
 
 " Did the people like Pownall? " asked Charley. 
 
 " They found no fault with him," replied Grand- 
 father. " It was no time to quarrel with the governor 
 when the utmost harmony was required in order to de- 
 fend the country against the French. But Pownall 
 did not remain long in Massachusetts. In 1759 he 
 was sent to be governor of South Carolina. In thus 
 exchanging one government for another, I suppose he 
 
THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 137 
 
 felt no regret, except at the necessity of leaving Grand- 
 father's chair behind him." 
 
 " He might have taken it to South Carolina," ob- 
 served Clara. 
 
 " It appears to me," said Laurence, giving the rein 
 to his fancy, " that the fate of this ancient chair was, 
 somehow or other, mysteriously connected with the 
 fortunes of old Massachusetts. If Governor Pownall 
 had put it aboard the vessel in which he sailed for 
 South Carolina, she would probably have lain wind- 
 bound in Boston Harbor. It was ordained that the 
 chair should not be taken away. Don't you think so, 
 Grandfather?" 
 
 " It was kept here for Grandfather and me to sit 
 in together," said little Alice, " and for Grandfather 
 to tell stories about." 
 
 " And Grandfather is very glad of such a compan- 
 ion f.nd such a theme," said the old gentleman, with a 
 smile. " Well, Laurence, if our oaken chair, like the 
 wooden palladium of Troy, was connected with the 
 country's fate, yet there appears to have been no su- 
 pernatural obstacle to its removal from the Province 
 House. In 1760 Sir Francis Bernard, who had been 
 governor of New Jersey, was appointed to the same 
 office in Massachusetts. He looked at the old chair, 
 and thought it quite too shabby to keep company with 
 a new set of mahogany chairs and an aristocratic sofa 
 which had just arrived from London. He therefore 
 ordered it to be put away in the garret." 
 
 The children were loud in their exclamations against 
 this irreverent conduct of Sir Francis Bernard. But 
 Grandfather defended him as well as he could. He 
 observed that it was then thirty years since the chair 
 had been beautified by Governor Belcher. Most of 
 
138 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 tlie gilding was worn off by the frequent scourings 
 wliicli it had undergone beneath the hands of a black 
 slave. The damask cushion, once so splendid, was 
 now squeezed out of all shape, and absolutely in tat- 
 ters, so many were the ponderous gentlemen who had 
 deposited their weight upon it during these thirty 
 years. 
 
 Moreover, at a council held by the Earl of Loudon 
 with the governors of New England in 1757, his lord- 
 ship, in a moment of passion, had kicked over the 
 chair with his military boot. By this unprovoked and 
 unjustifiable act, our venerable friend had suffered a 
 fracture of one of its rungs. 
 
 " But," said Grandfather, " our chair, after all, was 
 not destined to spend the remainder of its days in the 
 inglorious obscurity of a garret. Thomas Hutchinson, 
 lieutenant-governor of the province, was told of Sir 
 Francis Bernard's design. This gentleman was. more 
 familiar with the history of New England than any 
 other man alive. He knew all the adventures and 
 vicissitudes through which the old chair had passed, 
 and could have told as accurately as your own Grand- 
 father who were the personages that had occupied it. 
 Often, while visiting at the Province House, he had 
 eyed the chair with admiration, and felt a longing 
 desire to become the possessor of it. He now waited 
 upon Sir Francis Bernard, and easily obtained leave 
 to carry it home." 
 
 "And I hope," said Clara, "he had it varnished 
 and gilded anew." 
 
 " No," answered Grandfather. " What Mr. Hutch- 
 inson desired was, to restore the chair as much as 
 possible to its original aspect, such as it had appeared 
 when it was first made out of the Earl of Lincoln's 
 
THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 139 
 
 oak-tree. For this purpose he ordered it to be well 
 scoured with soap and sand and polished with wax, 
 and then provided it with a substantial leather cush- 
 ion. When all was completed to his mind he sat down 
 in the old chair, and began to write his History of 
 Massachusetts." 
 
 " Oh, that was a bright thought in Mr. Hutchinson," 
 exclaimed Laurence. " And no doubt the dim figures 
 of the former possessors of the chair flitted around him 
 as he wrote, and inspired him with a knowledge of all 
 that they had done and suffered while on earth." 
 
 " Why, my dear Laurence," replied Grandfather, 
 smiling, "if Mr. Hutchinson was favored with any 
 such extraordinary inspiration, he made but a poor 
 use of it in his history ; for a duller piece of compo- 
 sition never came from any man's pen. However, he 
 was accurate, at least, though far from possessing the 
 brilliancy or philosophy of Mr. Bancroft." 
 
 " But if Hutchinson knew the history of the chair," 
 rejoined Laurence, " his heart must have been stirred 
 by it." 
 
 " It must, indeed," said Grandfather. " It would 
 be entertaining and instructive, at the present day, to 
 imagine what were Mr. Hutchinson's thoughts as he 
 looked back upon the long vista of events with which 
 this chair was so remarkably connected." 
 
 And Grandfather allowed his fancy to shape out an 
 image of Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson, sitting in 
 an evening reverie by his fireside, and meditating on 
 the changes that had slowly passed around the chair. 
 
 A devoted Monarchist, Hutchinson w^ould heave no 
 sigh for the subversion of the original republican gov- 
 ernment, the purest that the world had seen, with 
 which the colony begau its existence. While rever- 
 
140 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 encing the grim and stern old Puritans as the found- 
 ers of his native land, he would not wish to recall them 
 from their graves, nor to awaken again that king-re- 
 sisting spirit which he imagined to be laid asleep with 
 them forever. Winthrop, Dudley, Bellingham, Endi- 
 cott, Leverett, and Bradstreet, — all these had had 
 their day. Ages might come and go, but never again 
 would the people's suffrages place a republican gov- 
 ernor in their ancient chair of state. 
 
 Coming down to the epoch of the second charter, 
 Hutchinson thought of the ship - carpenter Phips, 
 springing from the lowest of the people and attaining 
 to the loftiest station in the land. But he smiled to 
 perceive that this governor's example would awaken 
 no turbulent ambition in the lower orders ; for it was 
 a king's gracious boon alone that made the ship-car- 
 penter a ruler. Hutchinson rejoiced to mark the grad- 
 ual growth of an aristocratic class, to whom the com- 
 mon people, as in duty bound, were learning humbly 
 to resign the honors, emoluments, and authority of 
 state. He saw — or else deceived himself — that, 
 throughout this epoch, the people's disposition to self- 
 government had been growing weaker through long 
 disuse, and now existed only as a faint traditionary 
 feeling. 
 
 The lieutenant-governor's reverie had now come 
 down to the period at which he himself was sitting 
 in the historic chair. He endeavored to throw his 
 glance forward over the coming years. There, prob- 
 ably, he saw visions of hereditary rank for himself 
 and other aristocratic colonists. He saw the fertile 
 fields of New England proportioned out among a few 
 great landholders, and descending by entail from gen- 
 eration to generation. He saw the people a race of 
 
THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 141 
 
 tenantry, dependent on their lords. He saw stars, 
 garters, coronets, and castles. 
 
 " But," added Grandfather, turning to Laurence, 
 " the lieutenant-governor's castles were built nowhere 
 but among the red embers of the fire before which he 
 was sitting. And, just as he had constructed a baro- 
 nial residence for himself and his posterity, the fire 
 rolled down upon the hearth and crumbled it to ashes ! " 
 
 Grandfather now looked at his watch, which hung 
 within a beautiful little ebony temple, supported by 
 four Ionic columns. He then laid his hand on the 
 golden locks of little Alice, whose head had sunk down 
 upon the arm of our illustrious chair. 
 
 " To bed, to bed, dear child ! " said he. " Grand- 
 father has put you to sleep already by his stories about 
 these FAMOUS old people." 
 
APPENDIX TO PART 11. 
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE DEPORTATION OF THE ACADIANS. 
 
 FROM " HALIBURTON'S HISTORICAL AND STATISTICAL 
 ACCOUNT OF NOVA SCOTIA." 
 
 At a consultation, held between Colonel Winslow 
 and Captain Murray, [of the New England forces, 
 charged with the duty of exiling the Acadians,] it was 
 agreed that a proclamation should be issued at the 
 different settlements, requiring the attendance of the 
 people at the respective posts on the same day ; which 
 proclamation should be so ambiguous in its nature 
 that the object for which they were to assemble could 
 not be discerned, and so peremptory in its terms as 
 to ensure implicit obedience. This instrument, having 
 been drafted and approved, was distributed according 
 to the original plan. That which was addressed to 
 the people inhabiting the country now comprised 
 within the limits of King's County, was as follows : — 
 
 " To the inhabitants of the District of Grand Pre, 
 Minas, River Canard, &c. ; as w^ell ancient, as 
 young men and lads : 
 "Whereas, his Excellency the Governor has in- 
 structed us of his late resolution, respecting the matter 
 proposed to the inhabitants, and has ordered us to 
 communicate the same in person, his Excellency being 
 desirous that each of them should be fully satisfied of 
 his Majesty's intentions, which he has also ordered vs 
 
APPENDIX TO PART II. 143 
 
 to communicate to you, sucli as they have been given 
 to him. We, therefore, order and strictly enjoin, by 
 these presents, all of the inhabitants, as well of the 
 above-named district as of all the other Districts, both 
 old men and young men, as well as all the lads of ten 
 years of age, to attend at the Church at Grand Pr^, 
 on Friday, the fifth instant, at three of the clock in 
 the afternoon, that we may impart to them what we 
 are ordered to communicate to them ; declaring that 
 no excuse will be admitted on any pretence whatever, 
 on pain of forfeiting goods and chattels, in default of 
 real estate. Given at Grand Pre, 2d September, 
 1755, and 29th year of his Majesty's Reign. 
 
 " John Winslow." 
 
 In obedience to this summons four hundred and 
 eighteen able-bodied men assembled. These being 
 shut into the church (for that, too, had become an 
 arsenal). Colonel Winslow placed himself, with his 
 officers, in the centre, and addressed them thus : — 
 
 " Gentlemen : 
 
 " I have received from his Excellency Governor 
 Lawrence, the King's Commission, which I have in 
 my hand ; and by his orders you are convened together 
 to manifest to you, his Majesty's final resolution to 
 the French inhabitants of this his Province of Nova- 
 Scotia ; who, for almost half a century, have had 
 more indulgence granted them than any of his sub- 
 jects in any part of his dominions ; what use you have 
 made of it you yourselves best know. The part of 
 duty I am now upon, though necessary, is very dis- 
 agreeable to my natural make and temper, as I know 
 it must be grievous to you, who are of the same 
 
144 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 species ; but it is not my business to animadvert but 
 to obey such orders as I receive, and therefore, with- 
 out hesitation, shall deliver you his Majesty's orders 
 End instructions, namely — that your lands and tene- 
 ments, cattle of all kinds and live stock of all sorts, 
 are forfeited to the Crown ; with all other your effects, 
 saving your money and household goods, and you 
 yourselves to be removed from this his Province. 
 
 " Thus it is peremptorily his Majesty's orders that 
 the whole French inhabitants of these Districts be 
 removed ; and I am, through his Majesty's goodness, 
 directed to allow you liberty to carry off your money 
 and household goods, as many as you can without dis- 
 commoding the vessels you go in. I shall do every- 
 thing in my power that all those goods be secured to 
 you, and that you are not molested in carrying them 
 off ; also, that whole families shall go in the same ves- 
 sel, and make this remove, which I am sensible must 
 give you a great deal of trouble, as easy as his Ma- 
 jesty's service will admit ; and hope that, in whatever 
 part of the world you may fall, you may be faithful 
 subjects, a peaceable and happy people. I must also 
 inform you, that it is his Majesty's pleasure that you 
 remain in security under the inspection and direction 
 of the troops that I have the honor to command." 
 
 And he then declared them the King's prisoners. 
 The whole number of persons collected at Grand Pre 
 finally amounted to four hundred and eighty-three 
 men, and three hundred and thirty-seven women, 
 heads of families ; and their sons and daughters, to 
 j&ve hundred and twenty-seven of the former, and 
 five hundred and seventy-six of the latter ; mak- 
 ing in the whole one thousand nine hundred and 
 twenty-three souls. Their stock consisted of one 
 
APPENDIX TO PART II, 145 
 
 thousand two hundred and sixty-nine oxen, one thou- 
 sand five hundred and fifty-seven cows, five thou- 
 sand and seven young cattle, four hundred and ninety- 
 three horses, eiglit thousand six hundred, and ninety 
 sheejD, and four thousand one hundred and ninety- 
 seven hogs. As some of these wretched inhabitants 
 escaped to the woods, all possible measures were 
 adopted to force them back to captivity. The country 
 was laid waste to prevent their subsistence. In the 
 District of Minas alone, there were destroyed two hun- 
 dred and fifty-five houses, two hundred and seventy- 
 six barns, one hundred and fifty-five outhouses, eleven 
 mills, and one church ; and the friends of those who 
 refused to surrender were threatened as the victims 
 of their obstinacy. 
 
 In short, so operative were the terrors that sur- 
 rounded them, that of twenty-four young men, who 
 deserted from a transport, twenty-two were glad to 
 return of themselves, the others being shot by sen- 
 tinels ; and one of their friends, who was supposed to 
 have been accessory to their escape, was carried on 
 shore to behold the destruction of his house and 
 effects, which were burned in his presence, as a pun- 
 ishment for his temerity and perfidious aid to his com- 
 rades. The prisoners expressed the greatest concern 
 at having incurred his Majesty's displeasure, and in a 
 petition addressed to Colonel Winslow intreated him 
 to detain a part of them as sureties for the appearance 
 of the rest, who were desirous of visiting their fam- 
 ilies, and consoling them in their distress and misfor- 
 tunes. To comply with this request of holding a few 
 as hostages for the surrender of the whole body, was 
 deemed inconsistent with his instructions ; but, as 
 there could be no objection to allow a small number 
 
146 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 of them to return to their homes, permission was 
 given to them to choose ten for the District of Minas 
 (Horton) and ten for the District of Canard (Corn- 
 wallis) to whom leave of absence was given for one 
 day, and on whose return a similar number were in- 
 dulged in the same manner. They bore their confine- 
 ment, and received their sentence with a fortitude and 
 resignation altogether unexpected ; but when the hour 
 of embarkation arrived, in which they were to leave 
 the land of their nativity forever — to part with their 
 friends and relatives, without the hope of ever seeing 
 them again, and to be dispersed among strangers, 
 whose language, customs and religion were oj^posed 
 to their own, the weakness of human nature pre- 
 vailed, and they were overpowered with the sense of 
 their miseries. The preparations having been all 
 completed, the 10th of September was fixed upon as 
 the day of departure. The prisoners were drawn up 
 six deep, and the young men, one hundred and sixty- 
 one in number, were ordered to go first on board of 
 the vessels. This they instantly and peremptorily 
 refused to do, declaring that they would not leave 
 their parents ; but expressed a willingness to comply 
 with the order, provided they were permitted to em- 
 bark with their families. This request was immedi- 
 ately rejected, and the troops were ordered to fix 
 bayonets and advance towards the prisoners, a motion 
 which had the effect of producing obedience on the 
 part of the young men, who forthwith commenced 
 their march. The road from the chapel to the shore, 
 just one mile in length, was crowded with women and 
 children ; who, on their knees, greeted them as they 
 passed with their tears and their blessings, while the 
 prisoners advanced with slow and reluctant steps, 
 
APPENDIX TO PART II. 147 
 
 weeping, praying, and singing hymns. This detach- 
 ment was followed by the seniors, who passed through 
 the same scene of sorrow and distress. In this man- 
 ner was the whole male part of the population of the 
 District of Minas put on board the five transports, 
 stationed in the river Gaspereaux, each vessel being 
 guarded by six non-commissioned officers, and eighty 
 privates. As soon as the other vessels arrived, their 
 wives and children followed, and the whole were 
 transported from Nova Scotia. The haste with which 
 these measures were carried into execution did not 
 admit of those preparations for their comfort, which, 
 if unmerited by their disloyalty, were at least due in 
 pity to the severity of their punishment. The hurry, 
 confusion, and excitement connected with the em- 
 barkation had scarcely subsided, when the Provin- 
 _cials were appalled by the work of their own handsc 
 The novelty and peculiarity of their situation could 
 not but force itself upon the attention of even the un- 
 reflecting soldiery ; stationed in the midst of a beauti- 
 ful and fertile country, they suddenly found themselves 
 without a foe to subdue, and without a population to 
 protect. The volumes of smoke which the half expir- 
 ing embers emitted, while they marked the site of the 
 peasant's humble cottage, bore testimony to the extent 
 of the work of destruction. For several successive 
 evenings the cattle assembled round the smouldering 
 ruins, as if in anxious expectation of the return of 
 their masters, while all night long the faithful watch- 
 dogs of the Neutrals howled over the scene of desola- 
 tion, and mourned alike the hand that had fed, and 
 the house that had sheltered them. 
 
PART III. 
 
 1763-1803. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A new-year's day. 
 
 On the evening of New- Year's Day Grandfathei 
 was walking to and fro across the carpet, listening to 
 the rain which beat hard against the curtained win- 
 dows. The riotous blast shook the casement as if a 
 strong man were striving to force his entrance into 
 -jihe comfortable room. With every puff of the wind 
 the fire leaped upward from the hearth, laughing and 
 rejoicing at the shrieks of the wintry storm. 
 
 Meanwhile Grandfather's chair stood in its custom- 
 ary place by the fireside. The bright blaze gleamed 
 upon the fantastic figures of its oaken back, and shone 
 through the open work, so that a complete pattern was 
 thrown upon the opposite side of the room. Some- 
 times, for a moment or two, the shadow remained im- 
 movable, as if it were painted on the wall. Then all 
 at once it began to quiver, and leap, and dance with a 
 frisky motion. Anon, seeming to remember that these 
 antics were unworthy of such a dignified and venerable 
 chair, it suddenly stood still. But soon it began to 
 dance anew. 
 
 " Only see how Grandfather's chair is dancing ! '* 
 cried little Alice. 
 
 And she ran to the wall and tried to catch hold of 
 
150 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 the flickering shadow ; for, to children of five years 
 old, a shadow seems almost as real as a substance. 
 
 " I wish," said Clara, " Grandfather would sit down 
 in the chair and finish its history." 
 
 If the children had been looking at Grandfather, 
 they would have noticed that he paused in his walk 
 across the room when Clara made this remark. The 
 kind old gentleman was ready and willing to resume 
 his stories of departed times. But he had resolved to 
 wait till his auditors should request him to proceed, in 
 order that they might find the instructive history of 
 the chair a pleasure, and not a task. 
 
 " Grandfather," said Charley, " I am tired to death 
 of this dismal rain and of hearing the wind roar in 
 the chimney. I have had no good time all daj^ It 
 would be better to hear stories about the chair than to 
 sit doing nothing and thinking of nothing." 
 
 To say the truth, our friend Charley was very much 
 out of humor with the storm, because it had kept him 
 all day within doors, and hindered him from making 
 a trial of a splendid sled, which Grandfather had 
 given him for a New-Year's gift. As all sleds, nowa- 
 days, must have a name, the one in question had been 
 honored with the title of Grandfather's chair, which 
 was painted in golden letters on each of the sides. 
 Charley greatly admired the construction of the new 
 vehicle, and felt certain that it would outstrip any 
 other sled that ever dashed adown the long slopes of 
 the Common. 
 
 As for Laurence, he happened to be thinking, just 
 at this moment, about the history of the chair. Kind 
 old Grandfather had made him a present of a volume 
 of engraved portraits, representing the features of em- 
 inent and famous people of all countries. Among 
 
A NEW YEAR'S DAY. 151 
 
 them Laurence found several who had formerly oc- 
 cupied our chair or been connected with its adven- 
 tures. While Grandfather walked to and fro across 
 the room, the imaginative boy was gazing at the his- 
 toric chair. He endeavored to summon up the por= 
 traits which he had seen in his volume, and to place 
 them, like living figures, in the empty seat. 
 
 " The old chair has begun another year of its exist- 
 ence, to-day," said Laurence. " We must make haste, 
 or it will have a new history to be told before we 
 finish the old one." 
 
 " Yes, my children," replied Grandfather, with a 
 smile and a sigh, " another year has been added to 
 those of the two centuries and upward which have 
 passed since the Lady Arbella brought this chair over 
 from England. It is three times as old as your Grand- 
 father ; but a year makes no impression on its oaken 
 frame, while it bends the old man nearer and nearer 
 to the earth ; so let me go on with my stories while I 
 may." 
 
 Accordingly Grandfather came to the fireside and 
 seated himself in the venerable chair. The lion's head 
 looked down with a grimly good-natured aspect as the 
 children clustered around the old gentleman's knees. 
 It almost seemed as if a real lion were peeping over 
 the back of the chair, and smiling at the group of 
 auditors with a sort of lion-like complaisance. Little 
 Alice, whose fancy often inspired her with singular 
 ideas, exclaimed that the lion's head was nodding at 
 her, and that it looked as if it were going to open its 
 wide jaws and tell a story. 
 
 But as the lion's head appeared to be in no haste to 
 speak, and as there was no record or tradition of its 
 having spoken during the whole existence of the chair, 
 Grandfather did not consider it worth while to wait. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 THE STAMP ACT. 
 
 " Charley, my boy," said Grandfather, " do you 
 remember who was the last occupant of the chair ? " 
 
 " It was Lieutenant - Governor Hutchinson," an- 
 swered Charley. " Sir Francis Bernard, the new gov- 
 ernor, had given him the chair, instead of putting 
 it away in the garret of the Province House. And 
 when we took leave of Hutchinson he was sitting by 
 his fireside, and thinking of the past adventures of 
 the chair and of what was to come." 
 
 " Very well," said Grandfather ; " and j^ou recol- 
 lect that this was in 1763, or thereabouts, at the close 
 of the old French War. Now, that you may fully 
 comprehend the remaining adventures of the chair, I 
 must make some brief remarks on the situation and 
 character of the New England colonies at this period." 
 
 So Grandfather spoke of the earnest loyalty of our 
 fathers during the old French War, and after the con- 
 quest of Canada had brought that war to a triumphanf 
 close. 
 
 The people loved and reverenced the King of Eng- 
 land even more than if the ocean had not rolled its 
 waves between him and them; for, at the distance of 
 three thousand miles, they could not discover his bad 
 qualities and imperfections. Their love was increased 
 by the dangers which they had encountered in order to 
 heighten his glory and extend his dominion. Through- 
 
THE STAMP ACT. 153 
 
 out the war the American colonists had fought side by 
 side with the soldiers of Old England; and nearly 
 thirty thousand young men had laid down their lives 
 for the honor of King George. And the survivors 
 loved him the better because they had done and suf- 
 fered so much for his sake. 
 
 But there were some circumstances that caused 
 America to feel more independent of England than 
 at an earlier period. Canada and Acadia had now 
 become British provinces ; and our fathers were no 
 longer afraid of the bands of French and Indians who 
 used to assault them in old times. For a century and 
 a half this had been the great terror of New England. 
 Now the old French soldier was driven from the North 
 forever. And even had it been otherwise, the English 
 colonies were growing so populous and powerful that 
 they might have felt fully able to protect themselves 
 without any help from England. 
 
 There were thoughtful and sagacious men, who be- 
 gan to doubt whether a great country like America 
 would always be content to remain under the govern- 
 ment of an island three thousand miles away. This 
 was the more doubtful, because the English Parliar 
 ment had long ago made laws which were intended to 
 be very beneficial to England at the expense of Amer- 
 ica. By these laws the colonists were forbidden to 
 manufacture articles for their own use, or to carry on 
 trade with any nation but the English. 
 
 " Now," continued Grandfather, " if King George 
 III. and his counsellors had considered these things 
 wisely, they would have taken another course than 
 they did. But when they saw how rich and populous 
 the colonies had grown, their first thought was how 
 they might make more profit out of them than hereto* 
 
154 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 fore. England was enormously in debt at the close 
 of the old French War ; and it was j^retended that this 
 debt had been contracted for the defence of the Amer- 
 ican colonies, and that, therefore, a part of it ought to 
 be paid by them." 
 
 " Why, this was nonsense ! " exclaimed Charley. 
 " Did not our fathers spend their lives, and their 
 money too, to get Canada for King George ? " 
 
 " True, they did," said Grandfather ; " and they 
 told the English rulers so. But the king and his min- 
 isters would not listen to good advice. In 1765 the 
 British Parliament passed a Stamp Act." 
 
 " What was that?" inquired Charley. 
 
 "The Stamp Act," replied Grandfather, "was a 
 law by which all deeds, bonds, and other papers of 
 the same kind were ordered to be marked with the 
 king's stamjD ; and without this mark they were de- 
 clared illegal and void. Now, in order to get a blank 
 sheet of paper with the king's stamp upon it, peojile 
 were obliged to pay threepence more than the actual 
 value of the paper. And this extra sum of threei^ence 
 was a tax, and was to be paid into the king's treas- 
 ury." 
 
 " I am sure threepence was not worth quarrelling 
 about ! " remarked Clara. 
 
 " It was not for threepence, nor for any amount of 
 money, that America quarrelled with England," re- 
 plied Grandfather ; " it was for a great principle. The 
 colonists were determined not to be taxed except by 
 their own representatives. They said that neither the 
 king and Parliament, nor any other power on earth, 
 had a right to take their money out of their pockets 
 unless they freely gave it. And, rather than pay 
 threepence when it was unjustly demanded, they re- 
 
THE STAMP ACT. 155 
 
 solved to sacrifice all the wealth of the country, and 
 their lives along with it. They therefore made a most 
 stubborn resistance to the Stamp Act." 
 
 " That was noble ! " exclaimed Laurence. *' I un- 
 derstand how it was. If they had quietly paid the ta^f 
 of threepence, they would have ceased to be freemen, 
 and would have become tributaries of Eng^land. And 
 so they contended about a great question of right and 
 wrong, and put everything at stake for it." 
 
 " You are right, Laurence," said Grandfather, " and 
 it was really amazing and terrible to see what a change 
 came over the aspect of the people the moment the 
 English Parliament had passed this oppressive act. 
 The former history of our chair, my children, has 
 given you some idea of what a harsh, unyielding, stern 
 set of men the old Puritans were. For a good many 
 years back, hov/ever, it had seemed as if these charac- 
 teristics were disappearing. But no sooner did Eng- 
 land offer wrong to the colonies than the descendants 
 of the early settlers proved that they had the same 
 kind of temper as their forefathers. The moment be- 
 fore. New England appeared like a humble and loyal 
 subject of the crown ; the next instant, she showed 
 the grim, dark features of an old king-resisting Puri- 
 tan." 
 
 Grandfather spoke briefly of the public measures 
 that were taken in opposition to the Stamp Act. As 
 this law affected all the American colonies alike, it 
 naturally led them to think of consulting together in 
 order to procure its repeal. For this purpose the Leg- 
 islature of Massachusetts proi30sed that delegates from 
 every colony should meet in Congress. Accordingly 
 nine colonies, both Northern and Southern, sent dele- 
 gates to the city of New York. 
 
156 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 "And did they consult about going to war with 
 England ? " asked Charley. 
 
 " No, Charley," answered Grandfather ; "a great 
 deal of talking was yet to be done before England 
 and America could come to blows. The Congress 
 stated the rights and grievances of the colonists. They 
 sent a humble petition to the king, and a memorial to 
 the Parliament, beseeching that the Stamp Act might 
 be repealed. This was all that the delegates had it 
 in their power to do." 
 
 " They might as well have stayed at home, then," 
 said Charley. 
 
 " By no means," replied Grandfather. " It was a 
 most important and memorable event, this first com- 
 ing together of the American people by their repre- 
 sentatives from the North and South. If England 
 had been wise, she would have trembled at the first 
 word that was spoken in such an assembly." 
 
 These remonstrances and petitions, as Grandfather 
 observed, were the work of grave, thoughtful, and pru- 
 dent men. Meantime the young and hot-headed peo- 
 ple went to work in their own way. It is probable 
 that the petitions of Congress would have had little or 
 no effect on the British statesmen if the violent deeds 
 of the American people had not shown how much ex- 
 cited the people were. Liberty Tree was soon heard 
 of in England. 
 
 " What was Liberty Tree ? " inquired Clara. 
 
 " It was an old elm-tree," answered Grandfather, 
 "which stood near the corner of Essex Street, op- 
 posite the Boylston Market. Under the spreading 
 branches of this great tree the people used to assemble 
 whenever they wished to express their feelings and 
 opinions. Thus, after a while, it seemed as if the lib- 
 erty of the country was connected with Liberty Tree." 
 
THE STAMP ACT. 
 
 157 
 
 " It was glorious' fruit for a tree to bear," remarked 
 Laurence. 
 
 "It bore strange fruit, sometimes," said Grand- 
 father. " One morning in August, 1765, two figures 
 were found hanging on the sturdy branches of Liberty 
 Tree. They were dressed in square-skirted coats and 
 small-clothes ; and, as their wigs hung down over their 
 faces, they looked like real men. One was intended 
 to represent the Earl of Bute, who was supposed to 
 have advised the king to tax America. The other was 
 meant for the effigy of Andrew Oliver, a gentleman 
 belonging to one of the most respectable families in 
 Massachusetts." 
 
 " What harm had he done ? " inquired Charley. 
 
 " The king had appointed him to be distributor 
 of the stamps," answered Grandfather. " Mr. Oli- 
 ver would have made a great deal of money by this 
 business. But the people frightened him so much 
 by hanging him in effigy, and afterwards by break- 
 ing into his house, that he promised to have nothing 
 to do with the stamps. And all the king's friends 
 throughout America were compelled to make the same 
 promise." 
 
CHAPTER ni. 
 
 THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 
 
 " Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson," continued 
 Grandfather, " now began to be unquiet in our old 
 chair. He had formerly been much respected and be- 
 loved by the people, and had often proved himself a 
 friend to their interests. But the time was come 
 when he could not be a friend to the people without 
 ceasing to be a friend to the king. It was pretty 
 generally understood that Hutchinson would act ac- 
 cording to the king's wishes, right or wrong, like 
 most of the other gentlemen who held offices under 
 the crown. Besides, as he was brother-in-law of 
 Andrew Oliver, the people now felt a particular dis- 
 like to him." 
 
 " I should think," said Laurence, " as Mr. Hutch- 
 inson had written the history of our Puritan fore- 
 fathers, he would have knoAvn what the temper of the 
 people was, and so have taken care not to wrong 
 them." 
 
 " He trusted in the might of the King of England," 
 replied Grandfather, " and thought himself safe under 
 the shelter of the throne. If no dispute had arisen 
 between the king and the people, Hutchinson would 
 have had the character of a wise, good, and patriotic 
 magistrate. But, from the time that he took part 
 against the rights of his country, the people's love and 
 respect were turned to scorn and hatred, and he never 
 had another hour of peace." 
 
THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 159 
 
 In order to show what a fierce and dangerous spirit 
 was now aroused among the inhabitants, Grandfather 
 related a passage from history which we shall call The 
 Hutchinson Mob. 
 
 On the evening of the 26th of August, 1765, a bon- 
 fire was kindled in King Street. It flamed high up- 
 ward, and threw a ruddy light over the front of the 
 Town House, on which was displayed a carved repre- 
 sentation of the royal arms. The gilded vane of the 
 cupola glittered in the blaze. The kindling of this 
 bonfire was the well-known signal for the populace of 
 Boston to assemble in the street. 
 
 Before the tar-barrels, of which the bonfire was 
 made, were half burned out, a great crowd had come 
 together. They were chiefly laborers and seafaring 
 _ men, together with many young apprentices, and all 
 those idle people about town who are ready for any 
 kind of mischief. Doubtless some school-boys were 
 among them. 
 
 While these rough figures stood round the blazing 
 bonfire, you might hear them speaking bitter words 
 against the high officers of the province. Governor 
 Bernard, Hutchinson, Oliver, Storey, Hallo well, and 
 other men whom King George delighted to honor, 
 were reviled as traitors to the country. Now and 
 then, perhaps, an oflicer of the crown passed along 
 the street, wearing the gold-laced hat, white wig, and 
 embroidered waistcoat which were the fashion of the 
 day. But when the people beheld him they set up a 
 wild and angry howl ; and their faces had an evil as- 
 pect, which was made more terrible by the flickering 
 blaze of the bonfire. 
 
 " I should like to throw the traitor right into that 
 blaze ! " perhaps one fierce rioter would say. 
 
160 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " Yes ; and all his brethren too ! " another might 
 reply ; " and the governor and old Tommy Hutchin- 
 son into the hottest of it ! " 
 
 *' And the Earl of Bute along with them ! " mut- 
 tered a third ; " and burn the whole pack of them 
 under King George's nose ! No matter if it singed 
 him!" 
 
 Some such expressions as these, either shouted aloud 
 or muttered under the breath, were doubtless heard in 
 King Street. The mob, meanwhile, were growing 
 fiercer and fiercer, and seemed ready even to set the 
 town on fire for the sake of burning the king's friends 
 out of house and home. And yet, angry as they were, 
 they sometimes broke into a loud roar of laughtei , as 
 if mischief and destruction were their sport. 
 
 But we must now leave the rioters for a time, and 
 take a peep into the lieutenant-governor's splendid 
 mansion. It was a large brick house, decorated with 
 Ionic pilasters, and stood in Garden Court Street, near 
 the North Square. 
 
 While the angry mob in King Street were shouting 
 his name, Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson sat quietly 
 in Grandfather's chair, unsuspicious of the evil that 
 was about to fall upon his head. His beloved family 
 were in the room with him. He had thrown off his 
 embroidered coat and powdered wig, and had on a 
 loose-flowing gown and i^urple-velvet cap. He had 
 likewise laid aside the cares of state and all the 
 thoughts that had wearied and perplexed him through- 
 out the day. 
 
 Perhaps, in the enjoj^ment of his home, he had for- 
 gotten all about the Stamp Act, and scarcely remem- 
 bered that there was a king, across the ocean, who had 
 resolved to make tributaries of the New-Eugianders. 
 
THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 161 
 
 Possibly, too, he had forgotten his own ambition, and 
 would not have exchanged his situation, at that mo- 
 ment, to be governor, or even a lord. 
 
 The wax candles w^ere now lighted, and showed a 
 handsome room, well provided with rich furniture. 
 On the walls hung the pictures of Hutchinson's ances- 
 tors, who had been eminent men in their day, and were 
 honorably remembered in the history of the country. 
 Every object served to mark the residence of a rich, 
 aristocratic gentleman, who held himself high above 
 the common people, and could have nothing to fear 
 from them. In a corner of the room, thrown care- 
 lessly upon a chair, were the scarlet robes of the chief 
 justice. This high office, as well as those of lieuten- 
 ant-governor, councillor, and judge of probate, was 
 filled by Hutchinson. 
 
 Who or what could disturb the domestic quiet of 
 such a great and powerful personage as now sat in 
 Grandfather's chair ? 
 
 The lieutenant-governor's favorite daughter sat by 
 his side. She leaned on the arm of our great chair, 
 and looked up affectionately into her father's face, re- 
 joicing to perceive that a quiet smile was on his lips. 
 But suddenly a shade came across her countenance. 
 She seemed to listen attentively, as if to catch a dis- 
 tant sound. 
 
 " What is the matter, my child ? " inquired Hutch- 
 inson. 
 
 " Father, do not you hear a tumult in the streets ? " 
 said she. 
 
 The lieutenant-governor listened. But his ears were 
 duller than those of his daughter ; he could hear no- 
 thing more terrible than the sound of a summer breeze, 
 sighing among the toj^s of the elm-trees. 
 
162 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 " No, foolish child ! " he replied, playfully patting 
 her cheek. "There is no tumult. Our Boston mobs 
 are satisfied with what mischief they have already 
 done. The king's friends need not tremble." 
 
 So Hutchinson resumed his pleasant and peaceful 
 meditations, and again forgot that there were any 
 troubles in the world. But his family were alarmed, 
 and could not help straining their ears to catch the 
 slightest sound. More and more distinctly they heard 
 shouts, and then the trampling of many feet. While 
 they were listening, one of the neighbors rushed 
 breathless into the room. 
 
 " A mob ! a terrible mob ! " cried he. " They have 
 broken into Mr. Storey's house, and into Mr. Hallo- 
 well's, and have made themselves drunk with the 
 liquors in his cellar ; and now they are coming hither, 
 as wild as so many tigers. Flee, lieutenant-governor, 
 for your life ! for your life ! " 
 
 " Father, dear father, make haste ! " shrieked his 
 children. 
 
 But Hutchinson would not hearken to them. He 
 was an old lawyer ; and he could not realize that the 
 people would do anything so utterly lawless as to as- 
 sault him in his peaceful home. He was one of King 
 George's chief officers ; and it would be an insult and 
 outrage upon the king himself if the lieutenant-gov- 
 ernor should suffer any wrong. 
 
 " Have no fears on my account," said he. " I am 
 perfectly safe. The king's name shall be my protec- 
 tion." 
 
 Yet he bade his family retire into one of the neigh- 
 boring houses. His daughter would have remained ; 
 but he forced her away. 
 
 The huzzas and riotous uproar of the mob were now 
 
THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 163 
 
 heard, close at hand. The sound was terrible, and 
 struck Hutchinson with the same sort of dread as if 
 an enraged wild beast had broken loose and were roar- 
 ing for its prey. He crept softly to the window. 
 There he beheld an immense concourse of people, fill- 
 ing all the street and rolling onward to his house. It 
 was like a tempestuous flood, that had swelled beyond 
 its bounds and would sweep everything before it. 
 Hutchinson trembled ; he felt, at that moment, that 
 the wrath of the people was a thousand-fold more ter- 
 rible than the wrath of a king. 
 
 That was a moment when a loyalist and an aristo- 
 crat like Hutchinson might have learned how power- 
 less are kings, nobles, and great men, when the low 
 and humble range themselves against them. King 
 George could do nothing for his servant now. Had 
 King George been there he could have done nothing 
 for himself. If Hutchinson had understood this les- 
 son, and remembered it, he need not, in after years, 
 have been an exile from his native country, nor finally 
 have laid his bones in a distant land. 
 
 There was now a rush against the doors of the 
 house. The people sent up a hoarse cry. At this in- 
 stant the lieutenant-governor's daughter, whom he had 
 supposed to be in a place of safety, ran into the room 
 and threw her arms around him. She had returned 
 by a private entrance. 
 
 "Father, are you mad?" cried she. "Will the 
 king's name protect you now? Come with me, or 
 they will have your life." 
 
 "True," muttered Hutchinson to himself; "what 
 care these roarers for the name of king ? I must flee, 
 or they will trample me down on the floor of my owa 
 dwelling." 
 
164 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Hurrying away, he and his daughter made their es- 
 cape by the private passage at the moment when the 
 rioters broke into the house. The foremost of them 
 rushed up the staircase, and entered the room which 
 Hutchinson had just quitted. There they beheld our 
 good old chair facing them with quiet dignity, while 
 the lion's head seemed to move its jaws in the unsteady 
 light of their torches. Perhaps the stately aspect of 
 our venerable friend, which had stood firm through a 
 century and a half of trouble, arrested them for an 
 instant. But they were thrust forward by those be- 
 hind, and the chair lay overthrown. 
 
 Then began the work of destruction. The carVed 
 and polished mahogany tables were shattered with 
 heavy clubs and hewn to splinters with axes. The 
 marble hearths and mantel-pieces were broken. The 
 volumes of Hutchinson's library, so precious to a stu- 
 dious man, were torn out of their covers, and the 
 leaves sent flying out of the windows. Manuscripts, 
 containing secrets of our country's history, which are 
 now lost forever, were scattered to the winds. 
 
 The old ancestral portraits, whose fixed counte- 
 nances looked down on the wild scene, were rent from 
 the walls. The mob triumphed in their downfall and 
 destruction, as if these pictures of Hutchinson's fore- 
 fathers had committed the same offences as their de- 
 scendant. A tall looking-glass, which had hitherto 
 presented a reflection of the enraged and drunken 
 multitude, was now smashed into a thousand frag- 
 ments. We gladly dismiss the scene from the mirror 
 of our fancy. 
 
 Before morning dawned the walls of the house were 
 all that remained. The interior was a dismal scene of 
 ruin. A shower pattered in at the broken windows; 
 
THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 165 
 
 and when Hutchinson and his family returned, they 
 stood shivering in the same room where the last even- 
 ing had seen them so peaceful and happy.^ 
 
 " Grandfather," said Laurence, indignantly, " if 
 the people acted in this manner, they were not worthy 
 of even so much liberty as the King of England was 
 willing to allow them." 
 
 " It was a most unjustifiable act, like many other 
 popular movements at that time," replied Grandfather. 
 " But we must not decide against the justice of the 
 people's cause merely because an excited mob was 
 guilty of outrageous violence. Besides, all these 
 things were done in the first fury of resentment. Af- 
 terwards the people grew more calm, and were more 
 influenced by the counsel of those w^ise and good men 
 who conducted them safely and gloriously through the 
 Revolution." 
 
 Little Alice, with tears in her blue eyes, said that 
 she hoped the neighbors had not let Lieutenant-Gov- 
 ernor Hutchinson and his family be homeless in the 
 street, but had taken them into their houses and been 
 kind to them. Cousin Clara, recollecting the perilous 
 situation of our beloved chair, inquired v/hat had be- 
 come of it. 
 
 "Nothing^ was heard of our chair for some time 
 afterwards," answered Grandfather. "One day in 
 September, the same Andrew Oliver, of whom I 
 before told you, was summoned to ajDpear at high 
 noon under Liberty Tree. This was the strangest 
 summons that had ever been heard of ; for it was 
 issued in the name of the whole people, who thus took 
 upon themselves the authority of a sovereign power. 
 
 1 Hutchinson's own account of the destruction of his house is 
 BO graphic that we give it in the appendix, page 223. 
 
166 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Mr. Oliver dared not disobey. Accordingly, at tlie 
 appointed hour he went, much against his will, to 
 Liberty Tree." 
 
 Here Charley interposed a remark that poor Mr. 
 Oliver found but little liberty under Liberty TreCo 
 Grandfather assented. 
 
 " It was a stormy day," continued he. " The equi= 
 noctial gale blew violently, and scattered the yellow 
 leaves of Liberty Tree all along the street. Mr. Oli- 
 ver's wig was dripj^ing with water - drops ; and he 
 probably looked haggard, disconsolate, and humbled 
 to the earth. Beneath the tree, in Grandfather's 
 chair, — our own venerable chair, — sat Mr. Richard 
 Dana, a justice of the peace. He administered an 
 oath to Mr. Oliver that he would never have anything 
 to do with distributing the stamps. A vast concourse 
 of people heard the oath, and shouted when it was 
 taken." 
 
 " There is something grand in this," said Laurence. 
 " I like it, because the people seem to have acted with 
 thoughtfulness and dignity ; and this proud gentleman, 
 one of his Majesty's high officers, was made to feel 
 that King George could not protect him in doing 
 wrong." 
 
 " But it was a sad day for poor Mr. Oliver," ob- 
 served Grandfather. " From his youth upward it had 
 probably been the great principle of his life to be 
 faithful and obedient to the king. And now, in his 
 old age, it must have puzzled and distracted him to 
 find the sovereign people setting up a claim to his 
 faith and obedience." 
 
 Grandfather closed the evening's conversation by 
 saying that the discontent of America was so great, 
 that, in 1766, the British Parliament was compelled 
 
THE HUTCHINSON MOB, 167 
 
 to repeal the Stamp Act. The people made great 
 rejoicings, but took care to keep Liberty Tree well 
 pruned and free from caterpillars and canker-worms. 
 They foresaw that there might yet be occasion for 
 them to assemble under its far-projecting shadow. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 
 
 The next evening, Clara, who remembered that our 
 chair had been left standing in the rain under Liberty 
 Tree, earnestly besought Grandfather to tell when and 
 where it had next found shelter. Perhaps she was 
 afraid that the venerable chair, by being exposed to 
 the inclemency of a September gale, might get the 
 rheumatism in its aged joints. 
 
 " The chair," said Grandfather, " after the ceremony 
 of Mr. Oliver's oath, appears to have been quite for- 
 gotten by the multitude. Indeed, being much bruised 
 and rather rickety, owing to the violent treatment it 
 had suffered from the Hutchinson mob, most people 
 would have thought that its days of usefulness were 
 over. Nevertheless, it was conveyed away under cover 
 of the night and committed to the care of a skilful 
 joiner. He doctored our old friend so successfully, 
 that, in the course of a few days, it made its appear- 
 ance in the public room of the British Coffee House, 
 in King Street." 
 
 " But why did not Mr. Hutchinson get possession 
 of it again ? " inquired Charley. 
 
 " I know not," answered Grandfather, " unless he 
 considered it a dishonor and disgrace to the chair to 
 have stood under Liberty Tree. At all events, he suf- 
 fered it to remain at the British Coffee House, which 
 was the principal hotel in Boston. It could not poS' 
 
THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 169 
 
 sibly have found a situation where it would be more 
 in the midst of business and bustle, or would witness 
 more important events, or be occupied by a greater 
 variety of persons." 
 
 Grandfather went on to tell the proceedings of the 
 despotic king and ministry of England after the repeal 
 of the Stamp Act. They could not bear to think that 
 their right to tax America should be disputed by the 
 people. In the year 1767, therefore, they caused Par- 
 liament to pass an act for laying a duty on tea and 
 some other articles that were in general use. Nobody 
 could now buy a pound of tea without paying a tax to 
 King George. This scheme was pretty craftily con- 
 trived ; for the women of America were very fond of 
 tea, and did not like to give up the use of it. 
 
 But the people were as much opposed to this new 
 act of Parliament as they had been to the Stamp Act. 
 England, however, was determined that they should 
 submit. In order to compel their obedience, two reg- 
 iments, consisting of more than seven hundred British 
 soldiers, were sent to Boston. They arrived in Sep- 
 tember, 1768, and were landed on Long Wharf 
 Thence they marched to the Common with loadec*. 
 muskets, fixed bayonets, and great pomp and parade. 
 So now, at last, the free town of Boston was guarded 
 and overawed by redcoats as it had been in the days 
 of old Sir Edmund Andros. 
 
 In the month of November more regiments arrived. 
 There were now four thousand troops in Boston. The 
 Common was whitened with their tents. Some of the 
 soldiers were lodged in Faneuil Hall, which the inhab- 
 itants looked upon as a consecrated place, because it 
 had been the scene of a great many meetings in favor 
 of liberty. One regiment was placed in the Town 
 
170 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 House, which we now call the Old State House. The 
 lower floor of this edifice had hitherto been used by 
 the merchants as an exchange. In the upper stories 
 were the chambers of the judges, the representatives, 
 and the governor's council. The venerable councillors 
 could not assemble to consult about the welfare of the 
 province without being challenged by sentinels and 
 passing among the bayonets of the British soldiers. 
 
 Sentinels likewise were posted at the lodgings of 
 the officers in many parts of the town. When the 
 inhabitants approached they were greeted by the sharp 
 question, " Who goes there ? " while the rattle of the 
 soldier's musket was heard as he presented it against 
 their breasts. There was no quiet even on the sab- 
 bath day. The quiet descendants of the Puritans 
 were shocked by the uproar of military music ; the 
 drum, fife, and bugle drowning the holy organ peal 
 and the voices of the singers. It would appear as if 
 the British took every method to insult the feelings of 
 the people. 
 
 " Grandfather," cried Charley, impatiently, " the 
 people did not go to fighting half soon enough ! These 
 British redcoats ought to have been driven back to 
 their vessels the very moment they landed on Long 
 Wharf." 
 
 " Many a hot-headed young man said the same as 
 you do, Charley," answered Grandfather. " But the 
 elder and wiser people saw that the time was not yet 
 come. Meanwhile, let us take another peep at our old 
 chair." 
 
 " Ah, it drooped its head, I know," said Charley, 
 " when it saw how the province was disgraced. Its 
 old Puritan friends never would have borne such do- 
 ings." 
 
THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 171 
 
 "The chair," proceeded Grandfather, "was now 
 continually occupied by some of the high tories, as 
 the king's friends were called, who frequented the 
 British Coffee House. Officers of the Custom House, 
 too, which stood on the opposite side of King Street, 
 often sat in the chair wagging their tongues against 
 John Hancock." 
 
 " Why against him ? " asked Charley. 
 
 " Because he was a great merchant and contended 
 against paying duties to the king," said Grandfather. 
 
 " Well, frequently, no doubt, the officers of the 
 British regiments, when not on duty, used to fling 
 themselves into the arms of our venerable chair. 
 Fancy one of them, a red-nosed captain in his scarlet 
 uniform, playing with the hilt of his sword, and mak- 
 ing a circle of his brother officers merry with ridicu- 
 lous jokes at the expense of the poor Yankees. And 
 perhaps he would call for a bottle of wine, or a steam- 
 ing bowl of punch, and drink confusion to all rebels." 
 
 " Our grave old chair must have been scandalized 
 at such scenes," observed Laurence ; " the chair that 
 had been the Lady Arbella's, and which the holy 
 apostle Eliot had consecrated." 
 
 " It certainly was little less than sacrilege," replied 
 Grandfather ; " but the time was coming when even 
 the churches, where hallowed pastors had long preached 
 the word of God, were to be torn down or desecrated 
 by the British troops. Some years passed, however, 
 before such things were done." 
 
 Grandfather now told his auditors that, in 1769, Sir 
 Francis Bernard went to England after having been 
 governor of Massachusetts ten years. He was a gentle- 
 man of many good qualities, an excellent scholar, and 
 a friend to learning. But he was naturally of an ar- 
 
172 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 bitrary disposition ; and he had been bred at the Uni- 
 versity of Oxford, where young men were taught that 
 the divine right of kings was the only thing to be re- 
 garded in matters of government. Such ideas were ill 
 adapted to please the people of Massachusetts. They 
 rejoiced to get rid of Sir Francis Bernard, but liked 
 his successor, Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson, no 
 better than himself. 
 
 About this period the j^eoplewere much incensed at 
 an act committed by a person who held an office in 
 the Custom House. Some lads, or young men, were 
 snowballing his windows. He fired a musket at them, 
 and killed a poor German boy, only eleven years old. 
 This event made a great noise in town and country, 
 and much increased the resentment that was already 
 felt against the servants of the crown. 
 
 " Now, children," said Grandfather, " I wish to 
 make you comprehend the position of the British 
 troops in King Street. This is the same which we 
 now call State Street. On the south side of the Town 
 House, or Old State House, was what military men 
 call a court of guard, defended by two brass cannons, 
 which pointed directly at one of the doors of the above 
 edifice. A large party of soldiers were always sta- 
 tioned in the court of guard. The Custom House 
 stood at a little distance down King Street, nearly 
 where the Suffolk Bank now stands, and a sentinel 
 was continually pacing before its front." 
 
 " I shall remember this to-morrow," said Charley ; 
 " and I will go to State Street, so as to see exactly 
 where the British troops were stationed." 
 
 " And before long," observed Grandfather, " I shall 
 have to relate an event w^hich made King Street sadly 
 famous on both sides of the Atlantic. The history of 
 
THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 173 
 
 our chair will soon bring us to this melancholy busi- 
 ness." 
 
 Here Grandfather described the state of thinsrs 
 which arose from the ill will that existed between the 
 inhabitants and the redcoats. The old and sober part 
 of the townspeople were very angry at the government 
 for sending soldiers to overawe them. But those gray' 
 headed men were cautious, and kept their thoughts 
 and feelings in their own breasts, without putting 
 themselves in the way of the British bayonets. 
 
 The younger people, however, could hardly be kept 
 within such prudent limits. They reddened with wrath 
 at the very sight of a soldier, and would have been 
 willing to come to blows with them at any moment. 
 For it was their opinion that every tap of a British 
 drum within the peninsula of Boston was an insult to 
 the brave old town. 
 
 " It was sometimes the case," continued Grand- 
 father, " that affrays happened between such wild 
 young men as these and small parties of the soldiers. 
 No weapons had hitherto been used except fists or 
 cudgels. But when men have loaded muskets in their 
 hands, it is easy to foretell that they will soon be 
 turned against the bosoms of those who provoke their 
 anger." 
 
 " Grandfather," said little Alice, looking fearfully 
 into his face, " your voice sounds as though you were 
 going to tell us something awful ! " 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 
 
 Little Alice, by her last remark, proved herself a 
 good judge of what was expressed by the tones of 
 Grandfather's voice. He had given the above descrip- 
 tion of the enmity between the townspeople and the 
 soldiers in order to prepare the minds of his auditors 
 for a very terrible event. It was one that did more 
 to heighten the quarrel between England and Amer- 
 ica than anything that had yet occurred. 
 
 Without further preface, Grandfather began the 
 story of the Boston Massacre. 
 
 It was now the 3d of March, 1770. The sunset 
 music of the British regiments was heard as usual 
 throughout the town. The shrill fife and rattling drum 
 awoke the echoes in King Street, while the last ray of 
 sunshine was lingering on the cupola of the Town 
 House. And now all the sentinels were posted. One 
 of them marched up and down before the Custom 
 House, treading a short path through the snow, and 
 longing for the time when he would be dismissed to 
 the warm fireside of the guard room. Meanwhile 
 Captain Preston was, perhaps, sitting in our great 
 chair before the hearth of the British Coffee House. 
 In the course of the evening there were two or three 
 slight commotions, which seemed to indicate that 
 trouble was at hand. Small parties of young men 
 stood at the corners of the streets or walked along the 
 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE, 175 
 
 narrow pavements. Squads of soldiers who were dis- 
 missed from duty passed by them, shoulder to shoul- 
 der, with the regular step which they had learned at 
 the drill. Whenever these encounters took place, it 
 appeared to be the object of the young men to treat 
 the soldiers with as much incivility as possible. 
 
 " Turn out, you lobsterbacks ! " one would sayc 
 " Crowd them off the sidewalks ! ' ' another would cryo 
 " A redcoat has no right in Boston streets ! " 
 
 " O, you rebel rascals ! " perhaps the soldiers would 
 reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. " Some day 
 or other we'll make our way through Boston streets at 
 the point of the bayonet ! " 
 
 Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a 
 scuffle ; which passed off, however, without attracting 
 much notice. About eight o'clock, for some unknown 
 cause, an alarm-bell rang loudly and hurriedly. 
 
 At the sound many people ran out of their houses, 
 supposing it to be an alarm of fire. But there were 
 no flames to be seen, nor was there any smell of smoke 
 in the clear, frosty air ; so that most of the townsmen 
 went back to their own firesides and sat talking with 
 their wives and children about the calamities of the 
 times. Others who were younger and less prudent re- 
 mained in the streets ; for there seems to have been a 
 presentiment that some strange event was on the eve 
 of taking place. 
 
 Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, sev» 
 eral young men passed by the Town House and walked 
 down King Street. The sentinel was still on his post 
 in front of the Custom House, pacing to and fro; 
 while, as he turned, a gleam of light from some neigh- 
 borino^ window o^littered on the barrel of his musket. 
 At no great distance were the barracks and the guard. 
 
176 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 house, where his comrades were probably telling stories 
 of battle and bloodshed. 
 
 Down towards the Custom House, as I told you, 
 came a party of wild young men. When they drew 
 near the sentinel he halted on his post, and took his 
 musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet 
 at their breasts. 
 
 " \Yho goes there ? " he cried, in the gruff, peremp= 
 tory tones of a soldier's challenge. 
 
 The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they 
 had a right to walk their own streets without being ac- 
 countable to a British redcoat, even though he chal- 
 lenged them in King George's name. They made 
 some rude answer to the sentinel. There was a dis- 
 pute, or perhaps a scuffle. Other soldiers heard the 
 noise, and ran hastily from the barracks to assist their 
 comrades. At the same time many of the townspeople 
 rushed into King Street by various avenues, and gath- 
 ered in a crowd round about the Custom House. It 
 seemed wonderful how such a multitude had started 
 up all of a sudden. 
 
 The wrongs and insults which the people had been 
 suffering for many months now kindled them into a 
 rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the 
 soldiers. As the tumult grew louder it reached the 
 ears of Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He 
 immediately ordered eight soldiers of the main guard 
 to take their muskets and follow him. They marched 
 across the street, forcing their way roughly through 
 the crowd, and pricking the townspeople with their 
 bayonets. 
 
 A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterwards gen- 
 eral of the American artillery) caught Captain Pres« 
 ton's arm. 
 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 177 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, " take heed 
 what you do, or there will be bloodshed." 
 
 " Stand aside ! " answered Captain Preston, haugh- 
 tily. " Do not interfere, sir. Leave me to manage the 
 affair." 
 
 Arriving at the sentinel's post. Captain Preston 
 drew up his men in a semicircle, with their faces to 
 the crowd and their rear to the Custom House. When 
 the people saw the officer and beheld the threatening 
 attitude with which the soldiers fronted them, their 
 rage became almost uncontrollable. 
 
 " Fire, you lobsterbacks ! " bellowed some. 
 " You dare not fire, you cowardly redcoats ! " cried 
 others. 
 
 " Rush upon them ! " shouted many voices. " Drive 
 the rascals to their barracks ! Down with them ! 
 ^Down with them ! Let them fire if they dare ! " 
 
 Amid the uproar, the soldiers stood glaring at the 
 people with the fierceness of men whose trade was to 
 shed blood. 
 
 Oh, what a crisis had now arrived ! Up to this 
 very moment, the angry feelings between England and 
 America might have been pacified. England had but 
 to stretch out the hand of reconciliation, and acknowl- 
 edge that she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but 
 would do so no more. Then the ancient bonds of 
 brotherhood would again have been knit together as 
 firmly as in old times. The habit of loyalty, which 
 had grown as strong as instinct, was not utterly over- 
 come. The perils shared, the victories won, in the old 
 French War, when the soldiers of the colonies fought 
 side by side with their comrades from beyond the sea, 
 were unforgotten yet. England was still that beloved 
 country which the colonists called their home. King 
 
178 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 George, though he had frowned upon America, wag 
 still reverenced as a father. 
 
 But should the king's soldiers shed one drop of 
 American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. 
 Never, never would America rest satisfied until she 
 had torn down the royal authority and trampled it in 
 the dust. 
 
 " Fire, if you dare, villains ! " hoarsely shouted the 
 people, while the muzzles of the muskets were turned 
 upon them. " You dare not fire ! " 
 
 They appeared ready to rush upon the levelled bay- 
 onets. Captain Preston waved his sword, and uttered 
 a command which could not be distinctly heard amid 
 the uproar of shouts that issued from a hundred throats. 
 But his soldiers deemed that he had spoken the fatal 
 mandate, " Fire ! " The flash of their muskets lighted 
 up the streets, and the report rang loudly between the 
 edifices. It was said, too, that the figure of a man, 
 with a cloth hanging down over his face, was seen to 
 step into the balcony of the Custom House and dis- 
 charge a musket at the crowd. 
 
 A gush of smoke had overspread the scene. It rose 
 heavily, as if it were loath to reveal the dreadful spec- 
 tacle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New England 
 lay stretched upon the street. Some, sorely wounded, 
 were struggling to rise again. Others stirred not nor 
 groaned ; for they were past all pain. Blood was 
 streaming upon the snow; and that purple stain in 
 the midst of King Street, though it melted away in the 
 next day's sun, was never forgotten nor forgiven by 
 the people. 
 
 Grandfather was interrupted by the violent sobs of 
 little Alice. In his earnestness he had neglected to 
 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 179 
 
 soften clown the narrative so that It might not terrify 
 the heart of this unworldly infant. Since Grandfather 
 began the history of our chair, little Alice had listened 
 to many tales of war. But probably the idea had 
 never really impressed itself upon her mind that men 
 have shed the blood of their fellow-creatures. And 
 now that this idea was forcibly presented to her, it 
 affected the sweet child with bewilderment and horror. 
 
 " I ought to have remembered our dear little Alice," 
 said Grandfather reproachfully to himself. " Oh, what 
 a pity ! Her heavenly nature has now received its first 
 impression of earthly sin and violence. Well, Clara, 
 take her to bed and comfort her. Heaven grant that 
 she may dream away the recollection of the Boston 
 massacre ! " 
 
 " Grandfather," said Charley, when Clara and little 
 .Alice had retired, " did not the people rush upon the 
 soldiers and take revenge ? " 
 
 "The town drums beat to arms," replied Grand- 
 father, " the alarm-bells rang, and an immense multi- 
 tude rushed into King Street. Many of them had 
 weapons in their hands. The British prepared to de- 
 fend themselves. A whole regiment was drawn up 
 in the street, expecting an attack ; for the townsmen 
 appeared ready to throw themselves upon the bayo- 
 nets." 
 
 "And how did it end?" 
 
 " Governor Hutchinson hurried to the spot," said 
 Grandfather, "and besought the people to have pa- 
 tience, promising that strict justice should be done. 
 A day or two afterward the British troops were with- 
 drawn from town and stationed at Castle William. 
 Captain Preston and the eight soldiers were tried for 
 murder. But none of them were found guilty. The 
 
180 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 judges told the jury that the insults and violence which 
 had been offered to the soldiers justified them in firing 
 at the mob." 
 
 " The Revolution," observed Laurence, who had said 
 but little during the evening, " was not such a calm, 
 majestic movement as I supposed. I do not love to 
 hear of mobs and broils in the street. These things 
 were unworthy of the people when they had such a 
 great object to accomplish." 
 
 " Nevertheless, the world has seen no grander move- 
 ment than that of our Revolution from first to last," 
 said Grandfather. " The people, to a man, were ful 
 of a great and noble sentiment. True, there may b 
 much fault to find with their mode of expressing thi 
 sentiment ; but they knew no better ; the necessity was 
 upon them to act out their feelings in the best manner 
 they could. We must forgive what was wrong in their 
 actions, and look into their hearts and minds for the 
 honorable motives that impelled them." 
 
 " And I suppose," said Laurence, " there were men 
 who knew how to act worthily of what they felt." 
 
 " There were many such," replied Grandfather ; 
 " and we will speak of some of them hereafter." 
 
 Grandfather here made a pause. That night Charley 
 Lad a dream about the Boston massacre, and thought 
 that he himself was in the crowd and struck down 
 Captain Preston with a great club. Laurence dreamed 
 that he was sitting in our great chair, at the window 
 of the British Coffee House, and beheld the whole 
 scene which Grandfather had described. It seemed 
 to him, in his dream, that, if the townspeojole and the 
 soldiers would but have heard him speak a single 
 word, all the slaughter might have been averted. But 
 there was such an uproar that it drowned his voice. 
 
 l! 
 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 181 
 
 The next morning the two boys went together to 
 State Street and stood on the very spot where the 
 first blood of the Hevokition had been shed. The Old 
 State House was still there, presenting almost the 
 same aspect that it had worn on that memorable 
 evening, one-and-seventy years ago. It is the sole re- 
 maining witness of the Boston massacre. 
 
CHAPTER VL 
 
 A COLLECTION OF PORTKAITS. 
 
 The next evening the astral lamp was lighted earlier 
 than usual, because Laurence was very much engaged 
 in looking over the collection of portraits which had 
 been his New- Year's gift from Grandfather. 
 
 Among them he found the features of more than 
 one famous personage who had been connected with 
 the adventures of our old chair. Grandfather bade 
 him draw the table nearer to the fireside ; and they 
 looked over t}ie portraits together, while Clara and 
 Charley likewise lent their attention. As for little 
 Alice, she sat in Grandfather's lap, and seemed to see 
 the very men alive whose faces were there represented. 
 
 Turning over the volume, Laurence came to the 
 portrait of a stern, grim-looking man, in plain attire, 
 of much more modern fashion than that of the old 
 Puritans. But the face might well have befitted one 
 of those iron-hearted men. Beneath the portrait was 
 the name of Samuel Adams. 
 
 " He was a man of great note in all the doings that 
 brought about the Revolution," said Grandfather. 
 " His character was such, that it seemed as if one of 
 the ancient Puritans had been sent back to earth to 
 animate the people's hearts with the same abhorrence 
 of tyranny that had distinguished the earliest settlers. 
 He was as religious as the}^ as stern and inflexible, 
 and as deeply imbued with democratic principles. He, 
 
A COLLECTION OF PORTRAITS. 183 
 
 better than any one else, may be taken as a represen- 
 tative of the people of New England, and of the spirit 
 with which they engaged in the Revolutionary struggle. 
 He was a poor man, and earned his bread by a humble 
 occupation ; but with his tongue and pen he made the 
 King of England tremble on his throne. Remember 
 him, my children, as one of the strong men of our 
 country." 
 
 " Here is one whose looks show a very different 
 character," observed Laurence, turning to the portrait 
 of John Hancock. " I should think, by his splendid 
 dress and courtly aspect, that he was one of the king's 
 friends." 
 
 " There never was a greater contrast than between 
 Samuel Adams and John Hancock," said Grandfather. 
 _i' Yet they were of the same side in politics, and had 
 an equal agency in the Revolution. Hancock was 
 born to the inheritance of the largest fortune in New 
 England. His tastes and habits were aristocratic. He 
 loved gorgeous attire, a splendid mansion, magnificent 
 furniture, stately festivals, and all that was glittering 
 and pompous in external things. His manners were 
 so polished that there stood not a nobleman at the 
 footstool of King George's throne who was a more 
 skilful courtier than John Hancock might have been. 
 Nevertheless, he in his embroidered clothes, and Sam- 
 uel Adams in his threadbare coat, wrought together 
 in the cause of liberty. Adams acted from pure and 
 rigid principle. Hancock, though he loved his coun- 
 try, yet thought quite as much of his own popularity 
 as he did of the people's rights. It is remarkable that 
 these two men, so very different as I describe them, 
 were the only two exempted from pardon by the king's 
 proclamation." 
 
184 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 On the next leaf of the book was the portrait of 
 General Joseph Warren. Charley recognized the 
 name, and said that here was a greater man than 
 either Hancock or Adams. 
 
 " Warren was an eloquent and able patriot," replied 
 Grandfather. " He deserves a lasting memory for his 
 zealous efforts in behalf of liberty. No man's voice 
 was more powerful in Faneuil Hall than Joseph War- 
 ren's. If his death had not happened so early in the 
 contest, he would probably have gained a high name 
 as a soldier." 
 
 The next portrait was a venerable man, who held 
 his thumb under his chin, and, through his spectacles, 
 appeared to be attentively reading a manuscript. 
 
 " Here we see the most illustrious Boston boy that 
 ever lived," said Grandfather. " This is Benjamin 
 Franklin. But I will not try to compress into a few 
 sentences the character of the sage, who, as a French- 
 man expressed it, snatched the lightning from the sky 
 and the sceptre from a tyrant. Mr. Sparks must help 
 you to the knowledge of Franklin." ^ 
 
 The book likewise contained portraits of James Otis 
 and Josiah Quincy. Both of them. Grandfather ob- 
 served, were men of wonderful talents and true patri- 
 otism. Their voices were like the stirring tones of a 
 trumpet arousing the country to defend its freedom. 
 Heaven seemed to have provided a greater number of 
 eloquent men than had appeared at any other period, 
 in order that the people might be fully instructed as 
 to their wrongs and the method of resistance. 
 
 * Hawthorne himself wrote a sketch of Franklin. See River^ 
 side Literature Series, No. 10. But the best account of Franklin 
 is his Autobiography, published in Riverside Literature Series, Nos. 
 19 and 20. 
 
^r(-Hi^ 
 
 FANEUIL HALL, BOSTON 
 
 Built in i742,_at the expense of Peter Faneuil of Boston, and given by him to the 
 town. It is now standing as enlarged in 1805. The lower story is used as a 
 public market. In the second story is the famous hall, which is always free to 
 citizens for public meetings. 
 
4 
 
A COLLECTION OF PORTRAITS. 185 
 
 " It is marvellous," said Grandfather, " to see how 
 many powerM writers, orators, and soldiers started up 
 just at the time Avhen they were wanted. There was a 
 man for every kind of work. It is equally wonderful 
 that men of such different characters were all made 
 to unite in the one object of establishing the freedom 
 and independence of America. There was an over- 
 ruling Providence above them." 
 
 " Here was another great man," remarked Lau- 
 rence, pointing to the portrait of eJohn Adams. 
 
 " Yes ; an earnest, warm-tempered, honest and most 
 able man," said Grandfather. " At the period of 
 which we are now speaking he was a lawyer in Bos- 
 ton. He was destined in after years to be ruler over 
 the whole American people, whom he contributed so 
 much to form into a nation." 
 
 Grandfather here remarked that many a New-Eng- 
 lander, who had passed his boyhood and youth in ob- 
 scurity, afterward attained to a fortune which he never 
 could have foreseen even in his most ambitious dreams. 
 John Adams, the second President of the United 
 States and the equal of crowned kings, was once a 
 schoolmaster and country lawyer. Hancock, the first 
 signer of the Declaration of Independence, served his 
 apprenticeship with a merchant. Samuel Adams, 
 afterwards governor of Massachusetts, was a small 
 tradesman and a tax-gatherer. General Warren was 
 a physician. General Lincoln a farmer, and General 
 Knox a bookbinder. General Nathaniel Greene, the 
 best soldier, except Washington, in the Kevolutionary 
 army, was a Quaker and a blacksmith. All these be- 
 came illustrious men,' and can never be forgotten in 
 American history. 
 
 " And any boy who is born in America may look 
 
186 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 forward to tlie same things," said our ambitious friend 
 Charley. 
 
 After these observations, Grandfather drew the book 
 of portraits towards him and showed the children sev- 
 eral British peers and members of Parliament who 
 had exerted themselves either for or against the rights 
 of America. There were the Earl of Bute, Mr. Gren- 
 ville, and Lord North. These were looked upon as 
 deadly enemies to our country. 
 
 Among the friends of America was Mr. Pitt, after- 
 ward Earl of Chatham, who spent so much of his won- 
 drous eloquence in endeavoring to warn England of 
 the consequences of her injustice. He fell down on 
 the floor of the House of Lords after uttering almost 
 his dying words in defence of our privileges as free- 
 men. There was Edmund Burke, one of the wisest 
 men and greatest orators that ever the world produced. 
 There was Colonel Bar re, who had been among our 
 fathers, and knew that they had courage enough to 
 die for their rights. There was Charles James Fox, 
 who never rested until he had silenced our enemies 
 in the House of Commons. 
 
 " It is very remarkable to observe how many of the 
 ablest orators in the British Parliament were favor- 
 able to America," said Grandfather. " We ought to 
 remember these great Englishmen with gratitude ; for 
 their speeches encouraged our fathers almost as much 
 as those of our own orators in Faneuil Hall and under 
 Liberty Tree. Opinions which might have been re- 
 ceived with doubt, if expressed only by a native Amer- 
 ican, were set down as true, beyond dispute, when they 
 came from the lips of Chatham, Burke, Barre, or 
 Fox." 
 
 " But, Grandfather," asked Lawrence, " were there 
 
A COLLECTION OF PORTRAITS. 187 
 
 no able and eloquent men in this country who took 
 the part of King George ? " 
 
 " There were many men of talent who said what 
 they could in defence of the king's tyrannical pro- 
 ceedings," replied Grandfather. " But they had the 
 worst side of the argument, and therefore seldom said 
 anything worth remembering. Moreover, their hearts 
 were faint and feeble ; for they felt that the people 
 scorned and detested them. They had no friends, no 
 defence, except in the bayonets of the British troops. 
 A blight fell upon all their faculties, because they 
 were contending against the rights of their own na- 
 tive land." 
 
 " What were the names of some of them ? " inquired 
 Charley. 
 
 " Governor Hutchinson, Chief Justice Oliver, Judge 
 Auchmuty, the Rev. Mather Byles, and several other 
 clergymen, were among the most noted loyalists," an- 
 swered Grandfather. 
 
 " I wish the people had tarred and feathered every 
 man of them ! " cried Charley. 
 
 " That wish is very wrong, Charley," said Grand- 
 father. " You must not think that there is no integ- 
 rity and honor except among those who stood up for 
 the freedom of America. For aught I know, there 
 was quite as much of these qualities on one side as on 
 the other. Do you see nothing admirable in a faith- 
 ful adherence to an unpopular cause ? Can you not 
 respect that principle of loyalty which made the roy- 
 alists give up country, friends, fortime, everything, 
 rather than be false to their king ? It was a mistaken 
 principle ; but many of them cherished it honorably, 
 and were martyrs to it." 
 
 -' Oh, I was wrong I " said Charley, ingenuously. 
 
188 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 " And I would risk my life rather than one of those 
 good old royalists should be tarred and feathered." 
 
 " The time is now come when we may judge fairly 
 of them," continued Grandfather. " Be the good and 
 true men among them honored ; for they were as much 
 our countrymen as the patriots were. And, thank 
 Heaven, our country need not be ashamed of her sons, 
 — of most of them at least, — whatever side they took 
 in the Revolutionary contest." 
 
 Among the portraits was one of King George III,- 
 Little Alice clapped her hands, and seemed pleased 
 with the bluff good-nature of his physiognomy. But 
 Laurence thought it strange that a man with such a 
 face, indicating hardly a common share of intellect, 
 should have had influence enough on human affairs to 
 convulse the world with war. Grandfather observed 
 that this poor king had always appeared to him one of 
 the most unfortunate persons that ever lived. He was 
 so honest and conscientious, that, if he had been only a 
 private man, his life would probably have been blame- 
 less and happy. But his was that worst of fortunes, — 
 to be placed in a station far beyond his abilities. 
 
 *' And so," said Grandfather, " his life, while he re- 
 tained what intellect Heaven had gifted him with, was 
 one long mortification. At last he grew crazed with 
 care and trouble. For nearly twenty years the mon- 
 arch of England was confined as a madman. In his 
 old age, too, God took away his eyesight ; so that his 
 royal palace was nothing to him but a dark, lonesome 
 prison-house." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TEA PARTY AND LEXINGTON. 
 
 " Our old chair," resumed Grandfather, " did not 
 now stand in the midst of a gay circle of British 
 officers. The troops, as I told you, had been removed 
 to Castle William immediately after the Boston mas- 
 sacre. Still, however, there were many tories, cus- 
 tom-house officers, and Englishmen who used to 
 assemble in the British Coffee House and talk over 
 the affairs of the period. Matters grew worse and 
 worse ; and in 1773 the people did a deed which 
 incensed the king and ministry more than any of 
 their former doings." 
 
 Grandfather here described the affair, which is 
 known by the name of the Boston Tea Party. The 
 Americans, for some time past, had left off import- 
 ing tea, on account of the oppressive tax. The East 
 India Company, in London, had a large stock of tea 
 on hand, which they had expected to sell to the 
 Americans, but could find no market for it. But, 
 after a while, the government persuaded this company 
 of merchants to send the tea to America. 
 
 " How odd it is," observed Clara, " that the lib- 
 erties of America should have had anything to do 
 with a cup of tea ! " 
 
 Grandfather smiled, and proceeded with his nar- 
 rative. When the people of Boston heard that several 
 cargoes of tea were coming across the Atlantic, they 
 
190 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 held a great many meetings at Faneuil Hall, in the 
 Old South Church, and under Liberty Tree. In the 
 midst of their debates, three ships arrived in the 
 harbor with the tea on board. The people spent more 
 than a fortnight in consulting what should be done. 
 At last, on the 16th of December, 1773, they demanded 
 of Governor Hutchinson that he should immediately 
 send the ships back to England. 
 
 The governor replied that the ships must not leave 
 the harbor until the custom-house duties upon the tea 
 should be paid. Now, the payment of these duties 
 was the very thing against which the people had set 
 their faces ; because it was a tax unjustly imposed 
 upon America by the English government. Therefore, 
 in the dusk of the evening, as soon as Governor 
 Hutchinson's reply was received, an immense crowd 
 hastened to Griffin's Wharf, where the tea-ships lay. 
 The place is now called Liverpool Wharf. 
 
 " When the crowd reached the wharf," said Grand- 
 father, "they saw that a set of wild-looking figures 
 were already on board of the ships. You would have 
 imagined that the Indian warriors of old times had 
 come back again ; for they wore the Indian dress, and 
 had their faces covered with red and black paint, like 
 the Indians when they go to war. These grim figures 
 hoisted the tea-chests on the decks of the vessels, 
 broke them open, and threw all the contents into the 
 harbor." 
 
 " Grandfather," said little Alice, " I suppose Indians 
 don't love tea ; else they would never waste it so." 
 
 " They were not real Indians, my child," answered 
 Grandfather. " They were white men in disguise ; be- 
 cause a heavy punishment would have been inflicted 
 on them if the king's officers had found who they were. 
 
THE TEA PARTY AND LEXINGTON. 191 
 
 But it was never known. From that day to this, 
 though the matter has been talked of by all the world, 
 nobody can tell the names of those Indian figures. 
 Some 2)eople say that there were very famous men 
 among them, who afterwards became governors and 
 generals. Whether this be true I cannot tell." 
 
 When tidings of this bold deed were carried to 
 England, King George was greatly enraged. Parlia- 
 ment immediately passed an act, by which all vessels 
 were forbidden to take in or discharge their cargoes 
 at the port of Boston. In this way they expected to 
 ruin all the merchants, and starve the poor people, by 
 depriving them of employment. At the same time 
 another act was passed, taking away many rights and 
 privileges which had been granted in the charter of 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 - Governor Hutchinson, soon afterward, was smn- 
 moned to England, in order that he might give his 
 advice about the management of American affairs. 
 General Gage, an officer of the old French War, 
 and since commander-in-chief of the British forces in 
 America, was appointed governor in his stead. One 
 of his first acts was to make Salem, instead of Boston, 
 the metropolis of Massachusetts, by summoning the 
 General Court to meet there. 
 
 According to Grandfather's description, this was the 
 most gloomy time that Massachusetts had ever seen. 
 The people groaned under as heavy a tyranny as in 
 the days of Sir Edmund Andros. Boston looked as 
 if it were afflicted with some dreadful pestilence, — 
 so sad were the inhabitants, and so desolate the streets. 
 There was no cheerful hum of business. The mer- 
 chants shut up their warehouses, and the laboring men 
 stood idle about the wharves. But all America felt 
 
192 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 interested in tlie good town of Boston ; and contribu- 
 tions were raised, in many places, for the relief of the 
 poor inhabitants. 
 
 " Our dear old chair ! " exclaimed Clara. " How 
 dismal it must have been now ! " 
 
 " Oh," replied Grandfather, " a gay throng of offi= 
 cers had now come back to the British Coffee House ? 
 so that the old chair had no lack of mirthful company. 
 Soon after General Gage became governor a great 
 many troops had arrived, and were encamped uj)on 
 the Common. Boston was now a garrisoned and for- 
 tified town ; for the general had built a battery across 
 the Neck, on the road to Roxbury, and placed guards 
 for its defence. Everything looked as if a civil war 
 were close at hand." 
 
 " Did the people make ready to fight ? " asked Char- 
 ley. 
 
 "A Continental Congress assembled at Philadel- 
 phia," said Grandfather, " and proposed such meas- 
 ures as they thought most conducive to the public 
 good. A Provincial Congress was likewise chosen in 
 Massachusetts. They exhorted the people to arm and 
 discipline themselves. A great number of minute- 
 men were enrolled. The Americans called them min- 
 ute-men, because they engaged to be ready to fight at 
 a minute's warning. The English officers laughed, 
 and said that the name was a very proper one, because 
 the minute-men would run away the minute they saw 
 the enemy. Whether they would fight or run was soon 
 to be proved." 
 
 Grandfather told the children that the first open 
 resistance offered to the British troops, in the province 
 of Massachusetts, was at Salem. Colonel Timothy 
 Pickering, with thirty or forty militia-men, j^revented 
 
THE TEA PARTY AND LEXINGTON. 193 
 
 the English colonel, Leslie, with four times as many 
 regular soldiers, from taking possession of some mili- 
 tary stores. No blood was shed on this occasion ; but 
 soon afterward it began to flow. 
 
 General Gage sent eight hundred soldiers to Con- 
 cord, about eighteen miles from Boston, to destroy 
 some ammunition and provisions which the colonists 
 had collected there. They set out on their march on 
 the evening of the 18th of April, 1775. The next 
 morning the general sent Lord Percy with nine hun- 
 dred men to strengthen the troops that had gone be- 
 fore. All that day the inhabitants of Boston heard 
 various rumors. Some said that the British were mak- 
 ing great slaughter among our countrymen. Others 
 affirmed that every man had turned out with his mus- 
 ket, and that not a single soldier would ever get back 
 to Boston. 
 
 " It was after sunset," continued Grandfather, " when 
 the troops, who had marched forth so proudly, were 
 seen entering Charlestown. They were covered with 
 dust, and so hot and weary that their tongues hung 
 out of their mouths. Many of them were faint with 
 wounds. They had not all returned. Nearly threp- 
 hundred were strewn, dead or dying, along the road 
 from Concord. The yeomanry had risen upon the 
 invaders and driven them back." 
 
 "Was this the battle of Lexington?" asked Char- 
 ley. 
 
 " Yes," replied Grandfather ; " it was so called, be- 
 cause the British, without provocation, had fired upon 
 a party of minute-men, near Lexington meeting-house, 
 and killed eight of them. That fatal volley, which 
 was fired by order of Major Pitcairn, began the war 
 of the Revolution." 
 
194 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 About this time, if Grandfather had been correctly 
 informed, our chair disappeared from the British Cof^ 
 fee House. The manner of its departure cannot be 
 satisfactorily ascertained. Perhaps the keeper of the 
 Coffee House turned it out of doors on account of its 
 old-fashioned aspect. Perhaps he sold it as a curios- 
 ity. Perhaps it was taken, without leave, by some 
 person who regarded it as public property because it 
 had once figured under Liberty Tree. Or perhaps the 
 old chair, being of a peaceable disposition, has made 
 use of its four oaken legs and run away from the seat 
 of war. 
 
 " It would have made a terrible clattering over the 
 pavement," said Charley, laughing. 
 
 " Meanwhile," continued Grandfather, " during the 
 mysterious non-appearance of our chair, an army of 
 twenty thousand men had started up and come to the 
 siege of Boston. General Gage and his troops were 
 cooped up within the narrow precincts of the penin- 
 sula. On the 17th of June, 1775, the famous battle 
 of Bunker Hill was fought. Here General Warren 
 fell. The British got the victory, indeed, but with 
 the loss of more than a thousand officers and men." 
 
 "Oh Grandfather," cried Charley, "you must tell 
 us about that famous battle." 
 
 "No, Charley," said Grandfather, "I am not like 
 other historians. Battles shall not hold a prominent 
 place in the history of our quiet and comfortable old 
 chair. But to-morrow evening, Laurence, Clara, and 
 yourself, and dear little Alice too, shall visit the Dio- 
 rama of Bunker Hill. There you shall see the whole 
 business, the burning of Charlestown and all, with 
 your own eyes, and hear the cannon and musketry 
 with your own ears." 
 
CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 
 
 The next evening but one, when the children had 
 given Grandfather a full account of the Diorama of 
 Bunker Hill, they entreated him not to keep them 
 any longer in suspense about the fate of his chair. 
 The reader will recollect that, at the last accounts, it 
 had trotted away upon its poor old legs nobody knew 
 whither. But, before gratifying their curiosity. Grand- 
 father found it necessary to say something about pub- 
 ~-lic events. 
 
 The Continental Congress, which was assembled at 
 Philadelphia, was composed of delegates from all the 
 colonies. They had now appointed George Washing- 
 ton, of Virginia, to be commander-in-chief of all the 
 American armies. He was, at that time, a member of 
 Congress ; but immediately left Philadelphia, and be- 
 gan his journey to Massachusetts. On the 3d of July, 
 1775, he arrived at Cambridge, and took command of 
 the troops which were besieging General Gage. 
 
 " O Grandfather," exclaimed Laurence, " it makes 
 my heart throb to think what is coming now. We 
 are to see General Washington himself." 
 
 The children crowded around Grandfather and 
 looked earnestly into his face. Even little Alice 
 opened her sweet blue eyes, with her lips apart, and 
 almost held her breath to listen ; so instinctive is the 
 reverence of childhood for the father of his country. 
 
196 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Grandfather paused a moment ; for he felt as if it 
 might be irreverent to introduce the hallowed shade 
 of Washington into a history where an ancient elbow- 
 chair occupied the most prominent place. However, 
 he determined to proceed with his narrative, and speak 
 of the hero when it was needful, but with an unam- 
 bitious simplicity. 
 
 So Grandfather told his auditors, that, on General 
 "Washington's arrival at Cambridge, his first care was 
 to reconnoitre the British troops with his spy-glass, 
 and to examine the condition of his own army. He 
 found that the American troops amounted to about 
 fourteen thousand men. They were extended all round 
 the peninsula of Boston, a space of twelve miles, from 
 the high grounds of Roxbury on the right to Mystic 
 Kiver on the left. Some were living in tents of sail- 
 cloth, some in shanties rudely constructed of boards, 
 some in huts of stone or turf with curious windows 
 and doors of basket-work. 
 
 In order to be near the centre and oversee the whole 
 of this wide-stretched army, the commander-in-chief 
 made his headquarters at Cambridge, about half a 
 mile from the colleges. A mansion-house, which per- 
 haps had been the country seat of some Tory gentle- 
 man, was provided for his residence. 
 
 " When General Washington first entered this man- 
 sion," said Grandfather, " he was ushered up the stair- 
 case and shown into a handsome apartment. He sat 
 down in a large chair, which was the most conspicuous 
 object in the room. The noble figure of Washington 
 would have done honor to a throne. As he sat there, 
 with his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed 
 sword, which was placed between his knees, his whole 
 aspect well befitted the chosen man on whom his 
 
THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 197 
 
 country leaned for the defence of her dearest rights. 
 America seemed safe mider his protection. His face 
 was grander than any sculptor had ever wrought in 
 marble ; none could behold him without awe and rev- 
 erence. Never before had the lion's head at the sum- 
 mit of the chair looked down upon such a face and 
 form as Washington's." 
 
 '* Why, Grandfather ! " cried Clara, clasping her 
 hands in amazement, " was it really so ? Did General 
 Washington sit in our great chair? " 
 
 " I knew how it would be," said Laurence ; " I fore- 
 saw it the moment Grandfather began to speak." 
 
 Grandfather smiled. But, turning from the per- 
 sonal and domestic life of the illustrious leader, he 
 spoke of the methods which Washington adopted to 
 win back the metropolis of New England from the 
 British. 
 
 The army, when he took command of it, v/as with- 
 out any discipline or order. The privates considered 
 themselves as good as their officers ; and seldom 
 thought it necessary to obey their commands, unless 
 they understood the why and wherefore. Moreover, 
 they were enlisted for so short a period, that, as soon 
 as they began to be respectable soldiers, it was time to 
 discharge them. Then came new recruits, who had to 
 be taught their duty before they could be of any ser- 
 vice. Such was the army with which Washington 
 had to contend against more than twenty veteran 
 British regiments. 
 
 Some of the men had no muskets, and almost all 
 were without bayonets. Heavy cannon, for battering 
 the British fortifications, were much wanted. There 
 was but a small quantity of powder and ball, few tools 
 to build intrenchments with, and a great deficiency of 
 
198 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 provisions and clothes for the soldiers. Yet, in spite 
 of these perplexing difficulties, the eyes of the whole 
 people were fixed on General Washington, expecting 
 him to undertake some great enterprise against the 
 hostile army. 
 
 The first thing that he found necessary was to bring 
 his own men into better order and discipline. It is 
 wonderful how soon he transformed this rough mob of 
 country people into the semblance of a regular army. 
 One of AYashington's most invaluable characteristics 
 was the faculty of bringing order out of confusion. 
 All business with which he had any concern seemed 
 to regulate itself as if by magic. The influence of 
 his mind was like light gleaming through an unshaped 
 world. It was this faculty, more than any other, that 
 made him so fit to ride upon the storm of the Revolu- 
 tion when everything was unfixed and drifting about 
 in a troubled sea. 
 
 " Washington had not been long at the head of the 
 army," proceeded Grandfather, " before his soldiers 
 thought as highly of him as if he had led them to a 
 hundred victories. They knew that he was the very 
 man whom the country needed, and the only one who 
 could bring them safely through the great contest 
 against the might of England. They put entire con- 
 fidence in his courage, wisdom, and integrity." 
 
 " And were they not eager to follow him against the 
 British?" asked Charley. 
 
 " Doubtless they would have gone whithersoever his 
 sword pointed the way," answered Grandfather ; " and 
 Washington was anxious to make a decisive assault 
 upon the enemy. But as the enterprise was very haz- 
 ardous, he called a council of all the generals in the 
 army. Accordingly they came from their different 
 
THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 199 
 
 posts, and were ushered into the recej^tion-room. The 
 commander-in-chief arose from our great chair to greet 
 them." 
 
 " What were their names ? " asked Charley. 
 
 "There was General Artemas Ward," replied 
 Grandfather, "a lawyer by profession. He had 
 commanded the troops before Washington's arrival. 
 Another was General Charles Lee, who had been a 
 colonel in the English army, and was thought to pos- 
 sess vast military science. He came to the council, 
 followed by two or three dogs which were always at 
 his heels. There was General Putnam, too, who was 
 known all over New England by the name of Old 
 Put." 
 
 " Was it he who killed the wolf ? " inquired Char- 
 ley. 
 — '' The same," said Grandfather ; " and he had done 
 good service in the old French War. His occupation 
 was that of a farmer ; but he left his plough in the 
 furrow at the news of Lexington battle. Then there 
 was General Gates, who afterward gained great re- 
 nown at Saratoga, and lost it again at Camden. Gen- 
 eral Greene, of Rhode Island, was likewise at the 
 council. Washington soon discovered him to be one 
 of the best officers in the army." 
 
 When the generals were all assembled, Washington 
 consulted them about a jjlan for storming the English 
 batteries. But it was their unanimous opinion that 
 so perilous an enterprise ought not to be attempted. 
 The army, therefore, continued to besiege Boston, pre- 
 venting the enemy from obtaining supplies of provi- 
 sions, but without taking any immediate measures to 
 get possession of the town. In this manner the sum- 
 mer, autumn, and winter passed away. 
 
200 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " Many a night, doubtless," said Grandfather, 
 " after Washington had been all day on horseback, 
 galloping from one post of the army to another, he 
 used to sit in our great chair, rapt in earnest thought. 
 Had you seen him, you might have supposed that his 
 whole mind was fixed on the blue china tiles which 
 adorned the old-fashioned fireplace. But, in realit}^, 
 iie was meditating how to capture the British army, 
 ov drive it out of Boston. Once, when there was a 
 hard frost, he formed a scheme to cross the Charles 
 River on the ice. But the other generals could not 
 be persuaded that there was any prospect of success." 
 
 '' What were the British doing all this time ? " in 
 quired Charley. 
 
 " They lay idle in the town," replied Grandfather. 
 " General Gage had been recalled to England, and 
 was succeeded by Sir William Howe.^ The British 
 army and the inhabitants of Boston were now in great 
 distress. Being shut up in the town so long, they had 
 consumed almost all their provisions and burned up 
 all their fuel. The soldiers tore down the Old North 
 Church, and used its rotten boards and timbers for 
 firewood. To heighten their distress, the small-jDox 
 broke out. They probably lost far more men by cold, 
 hunger, and sickness than had been slain at Lexington 
 and Bunker Hill." 
 
 " What a dismal time for the poor women and chil- 
 dren ! " exclaimed Clara. 
 
 "At length," continued Grandfather, "in March, 
 1776, General Washington, who had now a good sup- 
 ply of powder, began a terrible cannonade and bom- 
 
 ^ It will be remembered that Hawthorne in his Legends of the 
 Province House imagines an entertainment during the siege. 
 See Howe's Masquerade. 
 
THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 201 
 
 burdment from Dorchester Heights. One of the can ■ 
 non-balls which he fired into the town struck the tower 
 of the Brattle Street Church, where it may still be 
 seen. Sir William Howe made preparations to cross 
 over in boats and drive the Americans from their bat- 
 teries, but was prevented by a violent gale and storm. 
 General Washington next erected a battery on Nook's 
 Hill, so near the enemy that it was impossible for 
 them to remain in Boston any longer." 
 
 " Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " cried Charley, clapping his 
 hands triumphantly. " I wish I had been there to see 
 how sheepish the Englishmen looked." 
 
 And as Grandfather thought that Boston had never 
 witnessed a more interesting period than this, when 
 the royal power was in its death agony, he determined 
 to take a peep into the town and imagine the feelings 
 of those who were quitting it forever. 
 
i 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE Tory's farewell. 
 
 " Alas for the poor tories ! " said Grandfather. 
 "Until the very last morning after Washington's 
 troops had shown themselves on Nook's Hill, these 
 unfortunate persons could not believe that the auda- 
 cious rebels, as they called the Americans, would ever 
 prevail against King George's army. But when they 
 saw the British soldiers preparing to embark on board 
 of the ships of war, then they knew that they had lost 
 their country. Could the patriots have known how 
 bitter were their regrets, they would have forgiven 
 them all their evil deeds, and sent a blessing after 
 them as they sailed away from their native shore." 
 
 In order to make the children sensible of the piti- 
 able condition of these men. Grandfather singled out 
 Peter Oliver, chief justice of Massachusetts under 
 the crown, and imagined him walking through the 
 streets of Boston on the morning before he left it for- 
 ever. 
 
 This effort of Grandfather's fancy may be called 
 the Tory's Farewell. 
 
 Old Chief Justice Oliver threw on his red cloak, 
 antl placed his three-cornered hat on the top of his 
 white wig. In this garb he intended to go forth and 
 take a parting look at objects that had been familiar 
 to him from his youth. Accordingly, he began his 
 walk in the north part of the town, and soon came to 
 
 
 
THE TORTS FAREWELL. 203 
 
 Faneuil Hall. This edifice, the cradle of liberty, had 
 been used by the British officers as a playhouse. 
 
 '' Would that I could see its walls crumble to dust ! " 
 thought the chief justice ; and, in the bitterness of his 
 heart, he shook his fist at the famous hall. " There 
 began the mischief which now threatens to rend asun- 
 der the British empire. The seditious harangues of 
 demagogues in Faneuil Hall have made rebels of a 
 loyal people and deprived me of my country." 
 
 He then passed through a narrow avenue and found 
 himself in King Street, almost on the very spot which, 
 six years before, had been reddened by the blood of 
 the Boston massacre. The chief justice stepped cau- 
 tiously, and shuddered, as if he were afraid that, even 
 now, the gore of his slaughtered countrymen might 
 stain his feet. 
 
 Before him rose the Town House, on the front of 
 which were still displayed the royal arms. Within 
 that edifice he had dispensed justice to the pecple in 
 the days when his name was never mentioned witliout 
 honor. There, too, was the balcony whence the trum- 
 pet had been sounded and the proclamation read to 
 an assembled multitude, whenever a new king of Eng-. 
 land ascended the throne. 
 
 "I remember — I remember," said Chief Justice 
 Oliver to himself, " when his present most sacred Maj- 
 esty was proclaimed. Then how the people shouted ! 
 Each man would have poured out his life-blood to keep 
 a hair of King George's head from harm. But now 
 there is scarcely a tongue in all New England that 
 does not imprecate curses on his name. It is ruin and 
 disgrace to love him. Can it be possible that a few 
 fleeting years have wrought such a change?" 
 
 It did not occur to the chief justice that nothing but 
 
204 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 the most grievous tyranny could so soon liave changed 
 the people's hearts. Hurrymg from the spot, he 
 entered Cornhill, as the lower part of Washington 
 Street was then called. Opposite to the Town House 
 was the waste foundation of the Old North Church, 
 The sacrileo:ious hands of the British soldiers had 
 torn it down, and kindled their barrack fires with the 
 fragments. 
 
 Farther on he passed beneath the tower of the Old 
 South. The threshold of this sacred edifice was worn 
 by the iron tramp of horses' feet ; for the interior had 
 been used as a riding-school and rendezvous for a regi- 
 ment of dragoons. As the chief justice lingered an in- 
 stant at the door a trumpet sounded within, and the 
 regiment came clattering forth and galloped down the 
 street. They were proceeding to the place of embar- 
 kation. 
 
 " Let them go ! " thought the chief justice, with 
 somewhat of an old Puritan feeling in his breast. 
 " No good can come of men who desecrate the house 
 of God." 
 
 He went on a few steps farther, and paused before 
 the Province House. No range of brick stores had 
 then sprung up to hide the mansion of the royal gov- 
 ernors from public view. It had a spacious court- 
 yard, bordered with trees, and enclosed with a wrought- 
 iron fence. On the cupola that surmounted the edi- 
 fice was the gilded figure of an Indian chief, ready to 
 let fly an arrow from his bow. Over the wide front 
 door was a balcony, in which the chief justice had 
 often stood when the governor and high oflicers of the 
 province showed themselves to the people. 
 
 While Chief Justice Oliver gazed sadly at the Prov- 
 ince House, before which a sentinel was pacing, the 
 
THE TORY'S FAREWELL. 205 
 
 double leaves of the door were thrown open, and Sir 
 William Howe made his appearance. Behind him 
 came a throng of officers, whose steel scabbards clat- 
 tered against the stones as they hastened down the 
 court-yard. Sir William Howe was a dark-complex- 
 ioned man, stern and haughty in his deportment. He 
 stepped as proudly in that hour of defeat as if he 
 were going to receive the submission of the rebel gen- 
 eral. 
 
 The chief justice bowed and accosted him. 
 
 " This is a grievous hour for both of us, Sir Wil- 
 liam," said he. 
 
 " Forward ! gentlemen," said Sir William Howe to 
 the officers who attended him ; " we have no time to 
 hear lamentations now." 
 
 And, coldly bowing, he departed. Thus the chief 
 justice had a foretaste of the mortifications which the 
 exiled New-Englanders afterwards suffered from the 
 haughty Britons. They were despised even by that 
 country which they had served more faithfully than 
 their own. 
 
 A still heavier trial awaited Chief Justice Oliver, as 
 he passed onward from the Province House. He was 
 recognized by the people in the street. They had long 
 known him as the descendant of an ancient and hon- 
 orable family. They had seen him sitting in his scar- 
 let robes upon the judgment-seat. All his life long, 
 either for the sake of his ancestors or on account of 
 his own dignified station and unspotted character, he 
 had been held in high respect. The old gentry of the 
 province were looked upon almost as noblemen while 
 Massachusetts was under royal government. 
 
 But now all hereditary reverence for birth and rank 
 was gone. The inhabitants shouted in derision when 
 
206 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 they saw the venerable form of the old chief justice. 
 They laid the wrongs of the country and their own 
 sufferings during the siege — their hunger, cold, and 
 sickness — partly to his charge and to that of his 
 brother Andrew and his kinsman Hutchinson. It was 
 by their advice that the king had acted in all the co- 
 lonial troubles. But the day of recompense was come. 
 
 " See the old tory ! " cried the people, with bitter 
 laughter. "He is taking his last look at us. Let 
 him show his white wig among us an hour hence, and 
 we '11 give him a coat of tar and feathers ! " 
 
 The chief justice, however, knew that he need fear 
 no violence so long as the British troops were in pos- 
 session of the town. But, alas ! it was a bitter thought 
 that he should leave no loving memory behind him. 
 His forefathers, long after their spirits left the earth, 
 had been honored in the affectionate remembrance of 
 the people. But he, who would henceforth be dead 
 to his native land, would have no epitaph save scorn- 
 ful and vindictive words. The old man wept. 
 
 " They curse me, they invoke all kinds of evil on 
 my head ! " thought he, in the midst of his tears. 
 " But, if they could read my heart, they would know 
 that I love New England well. Heaven bless her, and 
 bring her again under the rule of our gracious king ! 
 A blessing, too, on these poor, misguided people ! " 
 
 The chief justice flung out his hands with a gesture, 
 as if he were bestowing a parting benediction on his 
 countrymen. He had now reached the southern por- 
 tion of the town, and was far within the range of can- 
 non-shot from the American batteries. Close beside 
 him was the broad stump of a tree, which appeared to 
 have been recently cut down. Being weary and heavy 
 at heart, he was about to sit down upon the stump. 
 
THE TORY'S FAREWELL 207 
 
 Suddenly it flashed upon his recollection that this 
 was the stump of Liberty Tree ! The British soldiers 
 had cut it down, vainly boasting that they could as 
 easily overthrow the liberties of America. Under its 
 shadowy branches, ten years before, the brother of 
 Chief Justice Oliver had been compelled to acknowl- 
 edge the supremacy of the people by taking the oath 
 which they prescribed. This tree was connected with 
 all the events that had severed America from Ens:- 
 land. 
 
 " Accursed tree ! " cried the chief justice, gnashing 
 his teeth ; for anger overcame his sorrow. " Would 
 that thou hadst been left standing till Hancock, 
 Adams, and every other traitor, were hanged upon 
 thy branches ! Then fitly mightest thou have been 
 hewn down and cast into the flames." 
 
 He turned back, hurried to Long Wharf without 
 looking behind him, embarked with the British troops 
 for Halifax, and never saw his country more. Through- 
 out the remainder of his days Chief Justice Oliver 
 was agitated with those same conflicting emotions that 
 had tortured him while taking his farewell walk 
 through the streets of Boston. Deej) love and fierce 
 resentment burned in one flame within his breast. 
 Anathemas struggled with benedictions. He felt as 
 if one breath of his native air would renew his life, 
 yet would have died rather than breathe the same air 
 with rebels. And such likewise were the feelings of 
 the other exiles, a thousand in number, who departed 
 with the British army. Were they not the most un- 
 fortunate of men ? 
 
 " The misfortunes of those exiled tories," observed 
 Laurence, " must have made them think of the poor 
 exiles of Acadia." 
 
208 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 
 
 " They had a sad time of it, I suppose," said Char- 
 ley. " But I choose to rejoice with the patriots, rather 
 than be sorrowful with the tories. Grandfather, what 
 did Generr Washington do now? " 
 
 " As the rear of the British army embarked from 
 the vvharf," replied Grandfather, " General Washing- 
 ton's troops marched over the Neck, through the forti- 
 ficatic I gates, and entered Boston in triumph. And 
 now, for the first time since the Pilgrims landed, 
 Massachusetts was free from the dominion of Eng- 
 land. May she never again be subjected to foreign 
 rule, — never again feel the rod of oppression ! " 
 
 " Dear grandfather, " asked little Alice, " did Gen- 
 eral Washington bring our chair back to Boston ? " 
 
 " I know not how long the chair remained at Cam- 
 bridge," said Grandfather. " Had it stayed there till 
 this time, it could not have found a better or more ap- 
 propriate shelter. The mansion which General Wash- 
 ington occupied is still standing, and his apartments 
 have since been tenanted by several eminent men. 
 Governor Everett, while a professor in the University, 
 resided there. So at an after period did Mr. Sparks, 
 whose invaluable labors have connected his name with 
 the immortality of Washington. And at this very 
 time a venerable friend and contemporary of your 
 Grandfather, after long pilgrimages beyond the sea, 
 has set up his staff of rest at Washington's headquar- 
 ters." 
 
 "You mean Professor Longfellow, Grandfather,'* 
 said Laurence. " Oh, how I should love to see the 
 author of those beautiful Voices of the Night ! " 
 
 " We will visit him next summer," answered Grand- 
 father, " and take Clara and little Alice with us, — ■ 
 and Charley, too, if he will be quiet." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 When Grandfather resuQied his narrative the next 
 evening, he told the children that he had some diffi- 
 culty in tracing the movements of the chair during a 
 short period after General Washington's departure 
 from Cambridge. 
 
 Within a few months, however, it made its appear- 
 ance at a shop in Boston, before the door of which was 
 seen a striped pole. In the interior was displayed a 
 stuffed alligator, a rattlesnake's skin, a bundle of In- 
 dian arrows, an old-fashioned matchlock gun, a walk- 
 ing-stick of Governor Winthrop's, a wig of old Cotton 
 Mather's, and a colored print of the Boston massacre. 
 In short, it was a barber's shop, kept by a Mr. Pierce, 
 who prided himself on having shaved General Wash- 
 ington, Old Put, and many other famous persons. 
 
 " This was not a very dignified situation for our 
 venerable chair," continued Grandfather ; " but, you 
 know, there is no better place for news than a barber's 
 shop. All the events of the Eevolutionary War were 
 heard of there sooner than anywhere else. People 
 used to sit in the chair, reading the newspaper, or 
 talking, and waiting to be shaved, while Mr. Pierce, 
 with his scissors and razor, was at work upon the 
 heads or chins of his other customers." 
 
 " I am sorry the chair could not betake itself to 
 some more suitable place of refuge," said Laurence. 
 
210 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " It was old now, and must liave longed for quiet. 
 Besides, after it had held Washington in its arms, it 
 ought not to have been compelled to receive all the 
 world. It should have been put into the pulpit of the 
 Old South Church, or some other consecrated place." 
 
 " Perhaps so," answered Grandfather. " But the 
 chair, in the course of its varied existence, had grown 
 so accustomed to general intercourse with society, that 
 I doubt whetlider it would have contented itself in the 
 pulpit of the Old South. There it would have stood 
 solitary, or with no livelier companion than the silent 
 organ, in the opposite gallery, six days out of seven. 
 I incline to think that it had seldom been situated 
 more to its mind than on the sanded floor of the snug 
 little barber's shop." 
 
 Then Grandfather amused his children and himself 
 with fancying all the different sorts of people who had 
 occupied our chair while they awaited the leisure of 
 the barber. 
 
 There was the old clergyman, such as Dr. Chauncey, 
 wearing a white wig, which the barber took from his 
 head and placed upon a wig-block. Half an hour, per- 
 haps, was spent in combing and powdering this rever- 
 end appendage to a clerical skull. There, too, were 
 officers of the Continental army, who required their 
 hair to be pomatumed and plastered, so as to give 
 them a bold and martial aspect. There, once in a 
 while, was seen the thin, care-worn, melancholy visage 
 of an old tory, with a wig that, in times long past, had 
 perhaps figured at a Province House ball. And there, 
 not unfrequently, sat the rough captain of a privateer, 
 just returned from a successful cruise, in which he had 
 captured half a dozen richly laden vessels belonging to 
 King George's subjects. And sometimes a rosy little 
 
THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 211 
 
 school-boy climbed into our chair, and sat staring, with 
 wide-open eyes, at the alligator, the rattlesnake, and 
 the other curiosities of the barber's shop. His mother 
 had sent him, with sixpence in his hand, to get his 
 glossy curls cropped off. The incidents of the Revo- 
 lution plentifully supplied the barber's customers with 
 topics of conversation. They talked sorrowfully of 
 the death of General Montgomery and the failure of 
 our troops to take Quebec ; for the New-Engianders 
 were now as anxious to get Canada from the English 
 as the}^ had formerly been to conquer it from the 
 French. 
 
 " But very soon," said Grandfather, " came news 
 from Philadelphia, the most important that America 
 had ever heard of. On the 4th of July, 1776, Con- 
 gress had signed the Declaration of Independence. 
 JChe thirteen colonies were now free and independent 
 States. Dark as our prospects were, the inhabitants 
 welcomed these glorious tidings, and resolved to per- 
 ish rather than again bear the yoke of England." 
 
 " And I would perish, too ! " cried Charley. 
 
 " It was a gre^it day, — a glorious deed ! " said Lau- 
 rence, coloring high with enthusiasm. " And, Grand- 
 father, I love to think that the sages in Congress 
 showed themselves as bold and true as the soldiers in 
 the field ; for it must have required more courage to 
 sign the Declaration of Independence than to fight the 
 enemy in battle." 
 
 Grandfather acquiesced in Laurence's view of the 
 matter. He then touched briefly and hastily upon the 
 prominent events of the Revolution. The thunder- 
 storm of war had now rolled southward, and did not 
 again burst upon Massachusetts, where its first fury 
 had been felt. But she contributed her full share to 
 
212 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 the success of the contest. Wherever a battle was 
 fought, — whether at Long Island, White Plains, Tren- 
 ton, Princeton, Brandywine, or Germantown, — some 
 of her brave sons were found slain upon the field. 
 
 In October, 1777, General Burgoyne surrendered 
 his army, at Saratoga, to the American general, Gates, 
 The captured troops were sent to Massachusetts. Not 
 long afterwards Dr. Franklin and other American com- 
 missioners made a treaty at Paris, by which France 
 bound herself to assist our countrymen. The gallant 
 Lafayette was already fighting for our freedom by the 
 side of Washington. In 1778 a French fleet, com- 
 manded by Count d'Estaing, spent a considerable time 
 in Boston harbor. It marks the vicissitudes of hu- 
 man affairs, that the French, our ancient enemies, 
 should come hither as comrades and brethren, and that 
 kindred England should be our foe. 
 
 ''While the war was raging in the Middle and 
 Southern States," proceeded Grandfather, " Massa- 
 chusetts had leisure to settle a new constitution of 
 government instead of the royal charter. This was 
 done in 1780. In thei same year John Hancock, who 
 had been president of Congress, was chosen governor 
 of the State. He was the first whom the people had 
 elected since the days of old Simon Bradstreet." 
 
 " But, Grandfather, who had been governor since 
 the British were driven away?" inquired Laurence. 
 " General Gage and Sir William Howe were the last 
 whom you have told us of." 
 
 " There had been no governor for the last four 
 years," replied Grandfather. " Massachusetts had 
 been ruled by the Legislature, to whom the people 
 paid obedience of their own accord. It is one of the 
 most remarkable circumstances in our history, that, 
 
THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 213 
 
 when the charter government was overthrown by the 
 war, no anarchy nor the slightest confusion ensued. 
 This was a great honor to the people. But now Han- 
 cock was proclaimed governor by sound of trumpet; 
 and there was again a settled government." 
 
 Grandfather again adverted to the progress of the 
 war. In 1781 General Greene drove the British from 
 the Southern States. In October of the same year 
 General Washington compelled Lord Cornwallis to 
 surrender his army, at Yorktown, in Virginia. This 
 was the last great event of the Revolutionary contest. 
 King George and his ministers perceived that all the 
 might of England could not compel America to renew 
 her allegiance to the crown. After a great deal of dis- 
 cussion, a treaty of peace was signed in September, 
 1783. 
 
 " Now, at last," said Grandfather, " after w^eary 
 years of war, the regiments of Massachusetts returned 
 in peace to their families. Now the stately and dig- 
 nified leaders, such as General Lincoln and General 
 Knox, with their powdered hair and their uniforms of 
 blue and buff, were seen moving about the streets." 
 
 " And little boys ran after them, I suppose," re- 
 marked Charley; "and the grown people bowed 
 respectfully." 
 
 " They deserved respect ; for they were good men 
 as well as brave," answered Grandfather. " Now, too, 
 the inferior officers and privates came home to seek 
 some peaceful occupation. Their friends remembered 
 them as slender and smooth-cheeked young men ; but 
 they returned with the erect and rigid mien of disci- 
 plined soldiers. Some hobbled on crutches and wooden 
 legs ; others had received wounds, which were still 
 rankling in their breasts. Many, alas I had fallen in 
 
214 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 battle, and perhaps were left unburied on tlie bloody 
 field." 
 
 " The country must have been sick of war," ob- 
 served Laurence. 
 
 " One would have thought so," said Grandfather. 
 " Yet only two or three years elapsed before the folly 
 of some misguided men caused another mustering of 
 soldiers. This affair was called Shays's war, because 
 a Cai3tain Shays was the chief leader of the insur- 
 gents." 
 
 " Oh Grandfather, don't let there be another war ! " 
 cried little Alice, piteously. 
 
 Grandfather comforted his dear little girl by assur- 
 ing her that there was no great mischief done. Shays's 
 war happened in the latter part of 1786 and the be- 
 ginning of the following year. Its principal cause was 
 the badness of times. The State of Massachusetts, in 
 its public capacity, was very much in debt. So like- 
 wise were many of the people. An insurrection took 
 place, the object of which seems to have been to in- 
 terrupt the course of law and get rid of debts and 
 taxes. 
 
 James Bowdoin, a good and able man, was now gov- 
 ernor of Massachusetts. He sent General Lincoln, at 
 the head of four thousand men, to put down the in- 
 surrection. This general, who had fought through 
 several hard campaigns in the Revolution, managed 
 matters like an old soldier, and totally defeated the 
 rebels at the expense of very little blood. 
 
 " There is but one more public event to be recorded 
 in the history of our chair," proceeded Grandfather. 
 " In the year 1794 Samuel Adams was elected gov- 
 ernor of Massachusetts. I have told you what a dis- 
 tinguished patriot he was, and how much he resembled 
 
THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 215 
 
 the stern old Puritans. Could the ancient freemen of 
 Massachusetts who lived in the days of the first charter 
 have arisen from their graves, they would probably 
 have voted for Samuel Adams to be governor." 
 
 " Well, Grandfather, I hope he sat in our chair," 
 said Clara. 
 
 "He did," replied Grandfather. "He had long 
 been in the habit of visiting the barber's shop, where 
 our venerable chair, philosophically forgetful of its 
 former dignities, had now spent nearly eighteen not 
 uncomfortable years. Such a remarkable piece of 
 furniture, so evidently a relic of long-departed times, 
 could not escape the notice of Samuel Adams. He 
 made minute researches into its history, and ascer- 
 tained what a succession of excellent and famous peo- 
 ple had occupied it." 
 
 ~ " How did he find it out ? " asked Charley ; " for I 
 suppose the chair could not tell its own history." 
 
 " There used to be a vast collection of ancient let- 
 ters and other documents in the tower of the Old 
 South Church," answered Grandfather. " Perhaps the 
 history of our chair was contained among these. At 
 all events, Samuel Adams appears to have been well 
 acquainted with it. When he became governor, he 
 felt that he could have no more honorable seat than 
 that which had been the ancient chair of state. He 
 therefore purchased it for a trifle, and filled it wor- 
 thily for three years as governor of Massachusetts." 
 
 " And what next? " asked Charley. 
 
 " That is all," said Grandfather, heaving a sigh ; 
 for he could not help being a little sad at the thought 
 that his stories must close here. " Samuel Adams died 
 in 1803, at the age of above threescore and ten. He 
 was a great patriot, but a poor man. At his death he 
 
216 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 left scarcely property enough to pay the expenses of 
 his funeral. This precious chair, among his other 
 effects, was sold at auction ; and your Grandfather, 
 who was then in the strength of his years, became the 
 purchaser." 
 
 Laurence, with a mind full of thoughts that strug- 
 gled for expression, but could find none, looked stead- 
 fastly at the chair. 
 
 He had now learned all its history, yet was not sat- 
 isfied. 
 
 " Oh, how I wish that the chair could speak ! " cried 
 he. " After its long intercourse with mankind, — 
 after looking upon the world for ages, — what lessons 
 of golden wisdom it might utter ! It might teach a 
 private person how to lead a good and happy life, or 
 a statesman how to make his country prosperous." 
 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 grandfather's dream. 
 
 Grandfather was struck by Laurence's idea that 
 the historic chair should utter a voice, and thus pour 
 forth the collected wisdom of two centuries. The old 
 gentleman had once possessed no inconsiderable share 
 of fancy; and even now its fading sunshine occa- 
 sionally glimmered among his more sombre reflec- 
 tions. 
 
 As the history of his chair had exhausted all his 
 
 ^acts, Grandfather determined to have recourse to 
 
 fable. So, after warning the children that they must 
 
 not mistake this story for a true one, he related what 
 
 we shall call Grandfather's Dream. 
 
 Laurence and Clara, where were you last night ? 
 Where were you, Charley, and dear little Alice ? You 
 had all gone to rest, and left old Grandfather to med- 
 itate alone in his great chair. The lamp had gro\\Ti 
 so dim that its light hardly illuminated the alabaster 
 shade. The wood-fire had crumbled into heavy em- 
 bers, among which the little flames danced, and quiv- 
 ered, and sported about like fairies. 
 
 And here sat Grandfather all by himself. He knew 
 that it was bedtime ; yet he could not help longing to 
 hear your merry voices, or to hold a comfortable chat 
 with some old friend ; because then his pillow would 
 be visited by pleasant dreams. But, as neither chil- 
 dren nor friends were at hand, Grandfather leaned 
 
218 GBANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 back in the great chair and closed his eyes, for the 
 sake of meditating more profoundly. 
 
 And, when Grandfather's meditations had grown 
 very profound indeed, he fancied that he heard a 
 sound over his head, as if somebody were preparing to 
 speak. 
 
 " Hem ! " it said, in a dry, husky tone. " H-e-m ! 
 Hem!" 
 
 As Grandfather did not know that any person was 
 in the room, he started up in great surprise, and 
 peeped hither and thither, behind the chair, and into 
 the recess by the fireside, and at the dark nook yon- 
 der near the bookcase. Nobody could be seen. 
 
 " Poh ! " said Grandfather to himself, " I must have 
 been dreaming." 
 
 But, just as he was going to resume his seat, Grand- 
 father happened to look at the great chair. The rays 
 of firelight were flickering upon it in such a manner 
 that it really seemed as if its oaken frame were all 
 alive. What ! did it not move its elbow ? There, 
 too ! It certainly lifted one of its ponderous fore legs, 
 as if it had a notion of drawing itself a little nearer to 
 the fire. Meanwhile the lion's head nodded at Grand- 
 father with as polite and sociable a look as a lion's 
 visage, carved in oak, could possibly be expected to 
 assume. Well, this is strange ! 
 
 " Good evening, my old friend," said the dry and 
 husky voice, now a little clearer than before. " We 
 have been intimately acquainted so long that I think 
 it high time we have a chat together." 
 
 Grandfather was looking straight at the lion's head, 
 and could not be mistaken in supj)osing that it moved 
 its lips. So here the mystery was all explained. 
 
 " I was not aware," said Grandfather, with a civil 
 
GRANDFATHER'S DREAM. 219 
 
 salutation to his oaken companion, " that you possessed 
 the faculty of speech. Otherwise I should often have 
 been glad to converse with such a solid, useful, and 
 substantial if not brilliant member of society." 
 
 " Oh ! " replied the ancient chair, in a quiet and 
 easy tone, for it had now cleared its throat of the dust 
 of ages, " I am naturally a silent and incommunica- 
 tive sort of character. Once or twice in the course of 
 a century I unclose my lips. When the gentle Lady 
 Arbella departed this life I uttered a groan. When 
 the honest mint-master weighed his plump daughter 
 against the pine-tree shillings I chuckled audibly at 
 the joke. When old Simon Bradstreet took the place 
 of the tyrant Andros I joined in the general huzza, and 
 capered on my wooden legs for joy. To be sure, the 
 by-standers were so fully occupied with their own feel- 
 ings that my sympathy was quite unnoticed." 
 
 " And have you often held a private chat with your 
 friends?" asked Grandfather. 
 
 " Not often," answered the chair. " I once talked 
 with Sir William Phips, and communicated my ideas 
 about the witchcraft delusion. Cotton Mather had 
 several conversations with me, and derived great ben- 
 efit from my historical reminiscences. In the days of 
 the Stamp Act I whispered in the ear of Hutchinson, 
 bidding him to remember what stock his countrymen 
 were descended of, and to think whether the spirit 
 of their forefathers had utterly departed from them. 
 The last man whom I favored with a colloquy was that 
 stout old republican, Samuel Adams." 
 
 " And how happens it," inquired Grandfather, " that 
 there is no record nor tradition of your conversational 
 abilities ? It is an uncommon thing to meet with a 
 chair that can talk." 
 
2'JU GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 *' Why, to tell you the truth," said the chair, givmg 
 itself a hitch nearer to the hearth, " I am not apt to 
 choose the most suitable moments for unclosing my 
 lips. Sometimes I have inconsiderately begun to speak, 
 when my occupant, lolling back in my arms, was in- 
 clined to take an after-dinner nap. Or perhaps the 
 impulse to talk may be felt at midnight, when the 
 lamp burns dim and the fire crumbles into decay, and 
 the studious or thoughtful man finds that his brain is 
 in a mist. Oftenest I have unwisely uttered my wis- 
 dom in the ears of sick persons, when the inquietude 
 of fever made them toss about upon my cushion. And 
 so it happens, that though my words make a pretty 
 strong impression at the moment, yet my auditors in^ 
 variably remember them only as a dream. I should 
 not wonder if you, my excellent friend, were to do the 
 same to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Nor I either," thought Grandfather to himself. 
 
 However, he thanked this resj^ectable old chair for 
 beginning the conversation, and begged to know 
 whether it had anything particular to communicate. 
 
 " I have been listening attentively to your narrative 
 of my adventures," replied the chair ; " and it must be 
 owned that your correctness entitles you to be held up 
 as a pattern to biographers. Nevertheless, there are 
 a few omissions which I should be glad to see supplied. 
 For instance, you make no mention of the good knight 
 Sir Richard Saltonstall, nor of the famous Hugh 
 Peters, nor of those old regicide judges, Whalle}^ 
 Goffe, and Dixwell. Yet I have borne the weight of 
 all those distinguished characters at one time or an- 
 other." 
 
 Grandfather promised amendment if ever he should 
 have an opportunity to repeat his narrative. The good 
 
GRANDFATHER'S DREAM. 221 
 
 old chair, which still seemed to retain a due regard for 
 outward appearance, then reminded him how long a 
 time had passed since it had been provided with anew 
 cushion. It likewise expressed the opinion that the 
 oaken figures on its back would show to much better 
 advantage by the aid of a little varnish. 
 
 " And I have had a complaint in this joint," con- 
 tinued the chair, endeavoring to lift one of its legs, 
 " ever since Charley trundled his wheelbarrow against 
 me." 
 
 " It shall be attended to," said Grandfather. " And 
 now, venerable chair, I have a favor to solicit. During 
 an existence of more than two centuries you have had 
 a familiar intercourse with men who were esteemed the 
 wisest of their day. Doubtless, with your capacious 
 understanding, you have treasured up many an invalu- 
 able lesson of wisdom. You certainly have had time 
 enough to guess the riddle of life. Tell us, poor mor- 
 tals, then, how we may be happy." 
 
 The lion's head fixed its eyes thoughtfully upon the 
 fire, and the whole chair assumed an aspect of deep 
 meditation. Finally it beckoned to Grandfather with 
 its elbow, and made a step sideways towards him, as 
 if it had a very important secret to communicate. 
 
 " As Ions: as I have stood in the midst of human af- 
 fairs," said the chair, with a very oracular enunciation, 
 "I have constantly observed that Justice, Truth, 
 and Love are the chief ingredients of every happy 
 life." 
 
 "Justice, Truth, and Love!" exclaimed Grand- 
 father. "We need not exist two centuries to find 
 out that these qualities are essential to our happiness. 
 This is no secret. Every human being is born with 
 the instinctive knowledge of it." 
 
222 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the chair, drawing back in surprise, 
 " From what I have observed of the dealings of man 
 with man, and nation with nation, I never should have 
 suspected that they knew this all- important secret. 
 And, with this eternal lesson written in your soul, do 
 you ask me to sift new wisdom for you out of my 
 petty existence of two or three centuries ? " 
 
 " But, my dear chair " — said Grandfather. 
 
 " Not a word more," interrupted the chair ; " here I 
 close my lips for the next hundred years. At the end 
 of that period, if I shall have discovered any new pre- 
 cepts of happiness better than what Heaven has al- 
 ready taught you, they shall assuredly be given to the 
 world." 
 
 In the energy of its utterance the oaken chair seemed 
 to stamp its foot, and trod (we hope unintentionally) 
 upon Grandfather's toe. The old gentleman started, 
 and found that he had been asleep in the great chair, 
 and that his heavy walking-stick had fallen down 
 across his foot. 
 
 "Grandfather," cried little Alice, clapping her 
 hands, "you must dream a new dream every night 
 about our chair ! " 
 
 Laurence, and Clara, and Charley said the same. 
 But the good old gentleman shook his head, and de- 
 clared that here ended the history, real or fabulous, of 
 Grandfather's Chair. 
 
APPENDIX TO PART HI. 
 
 A LETTER FROM GOVERNOR HUTCHINSON NARRATING THE DOINGW 
 OF THE MOB. 
 
 TO RICHARD JACKSON. 
 
 Boston, Aug. 30, 1765. 
 My dear Sir, — I came from my house at Milton, 
 the 26 in the morning. After dinner it was whispered 
 in town there would be a mob at night, and that Pax- 
 ton, Hallowell, the custom-house, and admiralty offi- 
 cers' houses would be attacked ; but my friends assured 
 me that the rabble were satisfied with the insult I had 
 received and that I was become rather popular. In 
 the evening, whilst I was at supper and my children 
 round me, somebody ran in and said the mob were 
 coming. I directed my children to fly to a secure 
 place, and shut up my house as I had done before, in- 
 tending not to quit it ; but my eldest daughter repented 
 her leaving me, hastened back, and protested she would 
 not quit the house unless I did. I could n't stand 
 against this, and withdrew with her to a neighboring 
 house, where I had been but a few minutes before the 
 hellish crew fell upon my house with the rage of devils, 
 and in a moment with axes split down the doors and 
 entered. My son being in the great entry heard them 
 cry: "Damn him, he is upstairs, we'll have him." 
 Some ran immediately as high as the top of the house, 
 others filled the rooms below and cellars, and others 
 remained without the house to be employed there. 
 
224 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 Messages soon came one after another to the house 
 where I was, to inform me the mob were coming in 
 pursuit of me, and I was obliged to retire through 
 yards and gardens to a house more remote, where I 
 remained until 4 o'clock, by which time one of the 
 best fmished houses in the Province had nothing: re- 
 maining but the bare walls and floors. Not contented 
 with tearing off all the wainscot and hangings, and 
 splitting the doors to pieces, they beat down the parti- 
 tion walls ; and although that alone cost them near 
 two hours, they cut down the cupola or lanthorn, and 
 they began to take the slate and boards from the roof, 
 and were prevented only by the approaching daylight 
 from a total demolition of the building. The garden- 
 house was laid flat, and all my trees, etc., broke down 
 to the ground. 
 
 Such ruin was never seen in America. Besides 
 my plate and family pictures, household furniture of 
 every kind, my own, my children's, and servants' ap- 
 parel, they carried off about .£900 sterling in money, 
 and emptied the house of everything whatsoever, ex- 
 cept a part of the kitchen furniture, not leaving a 
 single book or paper in it, and have scattered or de- 
 stroyed all the manuscripts and other papers I had been 
 collecting for thirty years together, besides a great 
 number of public papers in my custody. The even- 
 ing being warm, I had undressed me and put on a 
 thin camlet surtout over my waistcoat. The next 
 morning, the weather being changed, I had not clothes 
 enough in my possession to defend me from the cold, 
 and was obliged to borrow from m}^ friends. Many 
 articles of clothing and a good part of my plate have 
 since been picked up in different quarters of the town, 
 but the furniture in general was cut to pieces before 
 
APPENDIX TO PART III. 225 
 
 it was thrown out of the house, and most of the beds 
 cut open, and the feathers thrown out of the windows. 
 The next evening, I intended with my children to 
 Milton, but meeting two or three small parties of 
 the ruffians, who I suppose had concealed themselves 
 in the country, and my coachman hearing one of them 
 say, " There he is ! " my daughters were terrified and 
 said they should never be safe, and I was forced to 
 shelter them that night at the Castle. 
 
 The encouragers of the first mob never intended 
 matters should go this length, and the people in gen- 
 eral expressed the utter detestation of this unparalleled 
 outrage, and I wish they could be convinced what in^ 
 finite hazard there is of the most terrible consequences 
 from such demons, when they are let loose in a govern- 
 ment where there is not constant authority at hand 
 sufficient to suppress them. I am told the government 
 here will make me a compensation for my own and 
 my family's loss, which I think cannot be much less 
 than <£3,000 sterling. I am not sure that they will. 
 If they should not, it will be too heavy for me, and I 
 must humbly apply to his majesty in whose service 
 I am a sufferer ; but this, and a much greater sum 
 would be an insufficient compensation for the constant 
 distress and anxiety of mind I have felt for some time 
 past, and must feel for months to come. You cannot 
 conceive the wretched state we are in. Such is the 
 resentment of the people against the Stamp-Duty, that 
 there can be no dependence upon the General Court to 
 take any steps to enforce, or rather advise, to the pay- 
 ment of it. On the other hand, such will be the effects 
 of not submitting to it, that all trade must cease, all 
 courts fall, and all authority be at an end. Must not 
 the ministry be excessively embarrassed ? On the one 
 
226 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 
 hand, it will be said, if concessions are made, the Par- 
 liament endanger the loss of their authority over the 
 Colony : on the other hand, if external forces should 
 be used, there seems to be danger of a total lasting 
 alienation of affection. Is there no alternative ? May 
 the infinitely wise God direct you. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES, 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 QUEEN CHRISTINA. 
 
 -»Sirti^ 
 
This small volume and others of a similar character, from the 
 same hand, have not been composed without a deep sense of re- 
 sponsibility. The author regards children as sacred, and would 
 not, for the world, cast anything into the fountain of a young 
 heart that might embitter and pollute its waters. And, even in 
 point of the reputation to be aimed at, juvenile literature is as 
 well worth cultivating as any other. The writer, if he succeed 
 in pleasmg his little readers, may hope to be remembered by 
 them till their own old age, — a far longer period of literary ex- 
 istence than is generally attained by those who seek immortality 
 from the judgments of full-grown men. 
 
i 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 When Edward Temple was about eight or nine 
 years old he was afflicted with a disorder of the eyes. 
 It was so severe, and his sight was naturally so deli- 
 cate, that the surgeon felt some apprehensions lest the 
 boy should become totally blind. He therefore gave 
 strict directions to keep him in a darkened chamber, 
 with a bandage over his eyes. Not a ray of the blessed 
 light of heaven could be suffered to visit the poor lad. 
 
 This was a sad thing for Edward. It was just the 
 same as if there were to be no more sunshine, nor 
 moonlight, nor glow of the cheerful fire, nor light of 
 lamps. A night had begun which was to continue per- 
 haps for months, — a longer and drearier night than 
 that which voyagers are compelled to endure when 
 their ship is ice-bound, throughout the winter, in the 
 Arctic Ocean. His dear father and mother, his brother 
 George, and the sweet face of little Emily Eobinson, 
 must all vanish and leave him in utter darkness and 
 solitude. Their voices and footsteps, it is true, would 
 be heard around him ; he would feel his mother's em- 
 brace and the kind pressure of all their hands ; but 
 still it would seem as if they were a thousand miles 
 away. 
 
 And then his studies, — they were to be entii'ely 
 
230 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 given up. This was another grievous trial ; for Ed- 
 ward's memory hardly went back to the period when 
 he had not known how to read. Many and many a 
 holiday had he spent at his book, poring over its pages 
 until the deepening twilight confused the print and 
 made all the letters run into long words. Then would 
 he press his hands across his eyes and wonder why 
 they pained him so ; and when the candles were 
 lighted, what was the reason that they burned so 
 dimly, like the moon in a foggy night ? Poor little 
 fellow! So far as his eyes were concerned he was 
 already an old man, and needed a pair of spectacles 
 almost as much as his own grandfather did. 
 
 And now, alas ! the time was come, when even 
 grandfather's spectacles could not have assisted Ed- 
 ward to read. After a few bitter tears, which only 
 pained his eyes the more, the poor boy submitted to 
 the surgeon's orders. His eyes were bandaged, and, 
 with his mother on one side and his little friend Emily 
 on the other, he was led into a darkened chamber. 
 
 " Mother, I shall be very miserable ! " said Edward, 
 sobbing. 
 
 " Oh no, my dear child ! " replied his mother, cheer- 
 fully. "Your eyesight was a precious gift of Heaven, 
 it is true ; but you would do wrong to be miserable 
 for its loss, even if there were no hope of regaining it. 
 There are other enjoyments besides what come to us 
 through our eyes." 
 
 " None that are worth having," said Edward. 
 
 " All, but you will not think so long," rejoined Mrs. 
 Temple, with tenderness. " All of us — your father, 
 and myself, and George, and our sweet Emily — will 
 try to find occupation and amusement for you. We 
 will use all our eyes to make you happy. Will they 
 not be better than a single pair ? '* 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 231 
 
 " I will sit by you aU day long," said Emily, in her 
 low, sweet voice, putting her hand into that of Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 " And so wiU I, Ned," said George, his elder brother, 
 " school time and aU, if my father will permit me." 
 
 Edward's brother George was three or four years 
 older than himself, — a fine, hardy lad, of a bold and 
 ardent temper. He was the leader of his comrades in 
 aU their enterprises and amusements. As to his pro- 
 ficiency at study there was not much to be said. He 
 had sense and ability enough to have made himself 
 a scholar, but found so many pleasanter things to do 
 that he seldom took hold of a book with his whole 
 heart. So fond was George of boisterous sports and 
 exercises that it was really a great token of affection 
 and sympathy, when he offered to sit all day long in 
 a dark chamber with his poor brother Edward. 
 
 As for little Emily Robinson, she was the daughter 
 of one of Mr. Temple's dearest friends. Ever since 
 her mother went to heaven (which was soon after Em- 
 ily's birth) the little girl had dwelt in the household 
 where we now find her. Mr. and Mrs. Temple seemed 
 to love her as well as their own children ; for they had 
 no daughter except Emily ; nor would the boys have 
 known the blessing of a sister had not this gentle 
 stranger come to teach them what it was. If I could 
 show you Emily's face, with her dark hair smoothed 
 away from her forehead, you would be pleased with 
 her look of simplicity and loving kindness, but might 
 think that she was somewhat too grave for a child of 
 seven years old. But you would not love her the less 
 for that. 
 
 So brother George and this loving little girl were 
 to be Edward's companions and playmates while he 
 
232 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 should be kept prisoner in the dark chamber. When 
 the first bitterness of his grief was over, he began to 
 feel that there might be some comforts and enjoy- 
 ments in life even for a boy whose eyes were covered 
 with a bandage. 
 
 " I thank you, dear mother," said he, with only a 
 few sobs ; " and you, Emily ; and you, too, George. 
 You will all be very kind to ;ne I know. And my 
 father, — will not he come and see me every day?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear boy," said Mr. Temple ; for, though 
 invisible to Edward, he was standing close beside him. 
 " I will spend some hours of every day with you. And 
 as I have often amused you by relating stories and ad- 
 ventures while you had the use of your eyes, I can do 
 the same now that you are unable to read. Will this 
 please you, Edward ? " 
 
 " Oh, very much," replied Edward. 
 
 " Well, then," said his father, " this evening we will 
 begin the series of Biographical Stories which I prom- 
 ised you some time ago." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 When evening came, Mr. Temple found Edward 
 considerably revived in spirits, and disposed to be re- 
 signed to his misfortune. Indeed, the figure of the 
 boy, as it was dimly seen by the firelight, reclining in 
 a well-stuffed easy chair, looked so very comfortable 
 that many people might have envied him. When a 
 man's eyes have grown old with gazing at the ways of 
 the w^orld, it does not seem such a terrible misfortune 
 to have them bandaged. 
 
 Little Emily Robinson sat by Edward's side with 
 the air of an accomplished nurse. As well as the 
 duskiness of the chamber would permit, she watched 
 all his motions and each varying expression of his 
 face, and tried to anticipate her patient's wishes be- 
 fore his tongue could utter them. Yet it was notice- 
 able that the child manifested an indescribable awe 
 and disquietude whenever she fixed her eyes on the 
 bandage ; for, to her simple and affectionate heart, it 
 seemed as if her dear friend Edward was separated 
 from her because she could not see his eyes. A friend's 
 eyes tell us many things which coidd never be spoken 
 by the tongue. 
 
 Georire, likewise, looked awkward and confused, as 
 stout and healthy boys are accustomed to do m the 
 society of the sick or afflicted. Never having felt pain 
 or sorrow, they are abashed, from not knowing how to 
 sympathize with the sufferings of others. 
 
 " Well, my dear Edward," inquired Mrs. Temple, 
 
234 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 " is your chair quite comfortable ? and lias your little 
 nurse provided for all your wants ? If so, your father 
 is ready to begin his stories." 
 
 " Oh, I am very well now," answered Edward, with 
 a faint smile. " And my ears have not forsaken me, 
 though my eyes are good for nothing. So pray, dear 
 father, begin." 
 
 It was Mr. Temple's design to teU the children a 
 series of true stories, the incidents of which should bo 
 taken from the childhood and early life of eminent 
 people. Thus he hoped to bring George, and Edward, 
 and Emily into closer acquaintance with the famous 
 persons who have lived in other times by showing that 
 they also had been children once. Although Mr. 
 Temple was scrupulous to relate nothing but what was 
 founded on fact, yet he felt himself at liberty to clothe 
 the incidents of his narrative in a new coloring, so that 
 his auditors might understand them the better. 
 
 "My first story," said he, "shall be about a jjainter 
 of pictures." 
 
 " Dear me ! " cried Edward, with a sigh. " I am 
 afraid I shall never look at pictures any more." 
 
 " We will hope for the best," answered his father. 
 " In the mean time, you must try to see things within 
 your own mind." 
 
 Mr. Temple then began the following story : — 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 [born 1738. DIED 1820.] 
 
 In the year 1738 there came into the world, in the 
 town of Springfield, Pennsylvania, a Quaker infant, 
 from whom his parents and neighbors looked for won- 
 derful things. A famous preacher of the Society of 
 Friends had prophesied about little Ben, and foretold 
 
BENJAMIN WEST. 235 
 
 that he would be one of the most remarkable charac- 
 ters that had appeared on the earth since the days of 
 William Penn. On this account, the eyes of many 
 people were fixed upon the boy. Some of his ances- 
 tors had won great renown in the old wars of England 
 and France ; but it was probably expected that Ben 
 would become a preacher, and would convert multi- 
 tudes to the peaceful doctrines of the Quakers. Friend 
 West and his wife were thought to be very fortunate 
 in having such a son. 
 
 Little Ben lived to the ripe age of six years without 
 doing anything that was worthy to be told in history. 
 But one summer afternoon, in his seventh year, his 
 mother put a fan into his hand and bade him keep the 
 flies away from the face of a little babe who lay fast 
 asleep in the cradle. She then left the room. 
 
 The boy waved the fan to and fro, and drove away 
 the buzzing flies whenever they had the impertinence 
 to come near the baby's face. When they had all 
 flown out of the window or into distant parts of the 
 room, he bent over the cradle and delighted himself 
 with gazing at the sleeping infant. It was, indeed, a 
 very pretty sight. The little personage in the cradle 
 slumbered peacefully, with its waxen hands under its 
 chin, looking as full of blissful quiet as if angels were 
 singing lidlabies in its ear. Indeed, it must have been 
 dreaming about heaven ; for, while Ben stooped over 
 the cradle, the little baby smiled. 
 
 " How beautiful she looks ! " said Ben to himself. 
 ''What a pity it is that such a pretty smile should not 
 last forever ! " 
 
 Now Ben, at this period of his life, had never heard 
 of that wonderful art by which a look, that appears 
 and vanishes in a moment, may be made to last for 
 
236 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 hundreds of years. But, though nobody had told him 
 of such an art, he may be said to have invented it for 
 himself. On a table near at hand there were pens 
 and paper, and ink of two colors, black and red. The 
 boy seized a pen and sheet of paper, and, kneeling 
 down beside the cradle, began to draw a likeness of 
 the infant. While he was busied in this manner he 
 heard his mother's step approaching, and hastily tried 
 to conceal the paper. 
 
 " Benjamin, my son, what hast thou been doing ? " 
 inquired his mother, observing marks of confusion in 
 his face. 
 
 At first Ben was unwilling to tell ; for he felt as if 
 there might be somethmg wrong in stealing the baby's 
 face and putting it upon a sheet of paper. However, 
 as his mother insisted, he finally put the sketch into 
 her hand, and then hung his head, expecting to be well 
 scolded. But when the good lady saw what was on 
 the paper, in lines of red and black ink, she uttered 
 a scream of surprise and joy. 
 
 " Bless me ! " cried she. " It is a picture of little 
 Sally!" 
 
 And then she threw her arms around our friend 
 Benjamin, and kissed him so tenderly that he never 
 afterwards was afraid to show his pei'formances to his 
 mother. 
 
 As Ben grew older, he was observed to take vast de- 
 light in looking at the hues and forms of nature. For 
 instance, he was greatly pleased with the blue violets 
 of spring, the wild roses of summer, and the scarlet 
 cardinal-flowers of early autumn. In the decline of 
 the year, when the woods were variegated with all the 
 colors of the rainbow, Ben seemed to desire nothing 
 better than to gaze at them from morn till night. The 
 
BENJAMIN WEST. 237 
 
 purple and golden clouds of sunset were a joy to him. 
 And he was continually endeavoring to draw the fig- 
 ures of trees, men, mountains, houses, cattle, geese, 
 ducks, and turkeys, with a piece of chalk, on barn 
 doors or on the floor. 
 
 In these old times the Mohawk Indians were still 
 numerous in Pennsylvania. Every year a party of 
 them used to pay a visit to Springfield, because the 
 wigwams of their ancestors had formerly stood there. 
 These wild men grew fond of little Ben, and made him 
 very happy by giving him some of the red and yellow 
 paint with which they were accustomed to adorn their 
 faces. His mother, too, presented him with a piece of 
 indigo. Thus he had now three colors, — red, blue, 
 and yellow, — and could manufacture green by mixing 
 the yellow with the blue. Our friend Ben was over- 
 joyed, and doubtless showed his gratitude to the In- 
 dians by taking their likenesses in the strange dresses 
 which they wore, with feathers, tomahawks, and bows 
 and arrows. 
 
 But all this time the young artist had no paint- 
 brushes ; nor were there any to be bought, unless he 
 had sent to Philadelphia on purpose. However, he 
 was a very ingenious boy, and resolved to manufacture 
 paint-brushes for himself. With this design he laid 
 hold upon — what do you think? Why, upon a re- 
 spectable old black cat, who was sleeping quietly by 
 the fireside. 
 
 " Puss," said little Ben to the cat, " pray give me 
 some of the fur from the tip of thy tail ? " 
 
 Though he addressed the black cat so civilly, yet 
 Ben was determined to have the fur whether she were 
 willing or not. Puss, who had no great zeal for the 
 fine arts, would have resisted if she could ; but the 
 
238 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 boy was armed with liis mother's scissors, and very 
 dexterously clipped off fur enough to make a paint- 
 brush. This was of so much use to him that he ap* 
 plied to Madam Puss again and again, until her 
 warm coat of fur had become so thin and ragged that 
 she could hardly keep comfortable through the winter. 
 Poor thing ! she was forced to creep close into the 
 chimney-corner, and eyed Ben with a very rueful phys- 
 iognomy. But Ben considered it more necessary that 
 he should have paint-brushes than that puss should be 
 warm. 
 
 About this period friend West received a visit from 
 Mr. Pennington, a merchant of Philadelphia, who was 
 likewise a member of the Society of Friends. The 
 visitor, on entering the parlor, was surprised to see it 
 ornamented with drawings of Indian chiefs, and of 
 birds with beautiful plumage, and of the wild flowers 
 of the forest. Nothing of the kind was ever seen be- 
 fore in the habitation of a Quaker farmer. 
 
 " Why, Friend West," exclaimed the Philadelphia 
 merchant, •■' what has possessed thee to cover thy walls 
 with all these pictures ? Where on earth didst thou 
 get them ? " 
 
 Then Friend West explained that all these pictures 
 were painted by little Ben, with no better materials 
 than red and yellow ochre and a piece of indigo, and 
 with brushes made of the black cat's fur. 
 
 " Verily," said Mr. Pennington, " the boy hath a 
 wonderful faculty. Some of our friends might look 
 upon these matters as vanity ; but little Benjamin ap- 
 pears to have been born a painter ; and Providence is 
 wiser than we are." 
 
 The good merchant patted Benjamin on the head, 
 and evidently considered him a wonderful boy. When 
 
 
BENJAMIN WEST. 239 
 
 Ms parents saw how much their son's performances 
 were admired, they, no doubt, remembered the proph- 
 ecy of the old Quaker preacher respecting Ben's future 
 eminence. Yet they could not understand how he was 
 ever to become a very great and useful man merely by 
 making pictures. 
 
 One evening, shortly after Mr. Pennington's return 
 to Philadelphia, a package arrived at Spring-field, di- 
 rected to our little friend Ben. 
 
 " What can it possibly be ? " thought Ben, when it 
 was put into his Lands. " Who can have sent me such 
 a great square package as this ?" 
 
 On taking off the thick brown paper which enveloped 
 it behold ! there was a paint-box, with a great many 
 cakes of paint, and brushes of various sizes. It was 
 the gift of good Mr. Pennington. There were like- 
 wise several squares of canvas such as artists use for 
 painting pictures upon, and, in addition to all these 
 treasures, some beautiful engravings of landscapes. 
 These were the first pictures that Ben had ever seen 
 except those of his own drawing. 
 
 AVhat a joyful evening was this for the little artist ! 
 At bedtime he put the paint-box under his pillow, and 
 got hardly a wink of sleep ; for, all night long, his 
 fancy was painting pictures in the darkness. In the 
 morning he hurried to the garret, and was seen no 
 more till the dinner-hour; nor did he give himself 
 time to eat more than a mouthful or two of food be- 
 fore he hurried back to the garret again. The next 
 day, and the next, he was just as busy as ever ; until 
 at last his mother thought it time to ascertain what 
 he was about. She accordingly followed him to the 
 garret. 
 
 On opening the door, the first object that presented 
 
240 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 itself to her eyes was our friend Benjamin, giving the 
 last touclies to a beautiful picture. He had copied 
 portions of two of the engravings, and made one pic- 
 ture out of both, with such admirable skill that it was 
 far more beautiful than the originals. The grass, the 
 trees, the water, the sky, and the houses were all 
 painted in their proper colors. There, too, were the 
 sunshine and the shadow, looking as natural as life. 
 
 " My dear child, thou hast done wonders I " cried 
 his mother. 
 
 The good lady was in an ecstasy of delight. And 
 well might she be proud of her boy ; for there were 
 touches in this picture which old artists, who had 
 spent a lifetime in the business, need not have been 
 ashamed of. Many a year afterwards, this wonderful 
 production was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 
 London. 
 
 When Benjamin was quite a large lad he was sent 
 to school at Philadelphia. Not long after his arrival 
 he had a slight attack of fever, which confined him to 
 his bed. The light, which would otherwise have dis- 
 turbed him, was excluded from his chamber by means 
 of closed wooden shutters. At first it appeared so to- 
 tally dark that Ben could not distinguish any object in 
 the room. By degrees, however, his eyes became ac- 
 customed to the scanty light. 
 
 He was lying on his back, looking up towards the 
 ceiling, when suddenly he beheld the dim apparition 
 of a white cow moving slowly over his head ! Ben 
 started, and rubbed his eyes in the greatest amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " What can this mean ? " thought he. 
 
 The white cow disappeared ; and next came several 
 pigs, which trotted along the ceiling and vanished into 
 
BENJAMIN WEST. 241 
 
 the darkness of the cliamber. So lifelike did these 
 grunters look that Ben almost seemed to hear them 
 squeak. 
 
 " Well, this is very strange ! " said Ben to himself. 
 
 When the people of the house came to see him, 
 Benjamin told them of the marvellous circumstance 
 which had occurred. But they would not believo 
 him. 
 
 " Benjamin, thou art surely out of thy senses ! '* 
 cried they. " How is it possible that a white cow and 
 a litter of pigs should be visible on the ceiling of a 
 dark chamber ? " 
 
 Ben, however, had great confidence in his own eye- 
 sight, and was determined to search the mystery to the 
 bottom. For this purpose, when he was again left 
 alone, he got out of bed and examined the window- 
 shutters. He soon perceived a small chink in one of 
 them, through which a ray of light found its passage 
 and rested upon the ceiling. Now, the science of 
 optics will inform us that the pictures of the white cow 
 and the pigs, and of other objects out of doors, came 
 into the dark chamber through this narrow chink, and 
 were painted over Benjamin's head. It is greatly to 
 his credit that he discovered the scientific principle of 
 this phenomenon, and, by means of it, constructed a 
 camera-obscura, or magic-lantern, out of a hollow box. 
 This was of great advantage to him in drawing land- 
 scapes. 
 
 WeU, time went on, and Benjamin continued to 
 draw and paint pictures until he had now reached the 
 age when it was proper that he should choose a busi- 
 ness for life. His father and mother were in consider- 
 able perphxity about him. According to the ideas of 
 the Quakers, it :s not right for people to spend their 
 
242 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 i 
 
 lives in occupations tliat are no real and sensible ad- 
 vantage to the world. Now, what advantage could 
 the world expect from Benjamin's pictures ? This was 
 a difficult question ; and, in order to set their minds 
 at rest, his parents determined to consult the preachers 
 and wise men of their society. Accordingly, they all 
 assembled in the meeting-house, and discussed the mat- 
 ter from beginning to end. 
 
 Finally they came to a very wise decision. It seemed 
 so evident that Providence had created Benjamin to be 
 a painter, and had given him abilities which would be 
 thrown away in any other business, that the Quakers 
 resolved not to oppose his inclination. They even ac- 
 knowledged that the sight of a beautif id picture might 
 convey instruction to the mind, and might benefit the 
 heart as much as a good book or a wise discourse. 
 They therefore committed the youth to the direction 
 of God, being well assured that he best knew what was 
 his proper sphere of usefulness. The old men laid 
 their hands upon Benjamin's head and gave him their 
 blessing, and the women kissed him affectionately. 
 All consented that he should go forth into the world 
 and learn to be a painter by studying the best pictures 
 of ancient and modern times. 
 
 So our friend Benjamin left the dwelling of his par- 
 ents, and his native woods and streams, and the good! 
 Quakers of Springfield, and the Indians who had 
 given him his first colors ; he left all the places and 
 persons whom he had hitherto known, and returned 
 to them no more. He went first to Philadelphia, and 
 afterwards to Europe. Here he was noticed by many 
 great people, but retained all the sobriety and simplic- 
 ity which he had learned among the Quakers. It is 
 related of him, that, when he was presented at the 
 
BENJAMIN WEST. 243 
 
 court of the Prince of Parma, he kept his hat upon his 
 head even while kissing the Prince's hand. 
 
 When he was twenty-five years old he went to Lon- 
 don, and established himself there as an artist. In due 
 course of time he acquired great fame bv his pictures, 
 and was made chief painter to King George III. and 
 president of the Koyal Academy of Arts. When the 
 Quakers of Pennsylvania heard of his success, they 
 felt that the prophecy of the old preacher as to little 
 Ben's future eminence was now accomplished. It is 
 true, they shook their heads at his pictures of battle 
 and bloodshed, such as the Death of Wolfe, thinking 
 that these terrible scenes should not be held up to the 
 admiration of the world. 
 
 But they approved of the great paintings in which 
 he represented the miracles and sufferings of the Re- 
 deemer of mankind. King George employed him to 
 adorn a large and beautiful chapel at Windsor Castle 
 with pictures of these sacred subjects. He likewise 
 painted a magnificent picture of Christ Healing the 
 Sick, which he gave to the hospital at Philadelphia. 
 It was exhibited to the public, and produced so much 
 profit that the hospital was enlarged so as to accom- 
 modate thirty more patients. If Benjamin West had 
 done no other good deed than this, yet it would have 
 been enouo^h to entitle him to an honorable remem- 
 brance forever. At this very day there are thirty poor 
 people in the hospital who owe all their comforts to 
 that same picture. 
 
 We shall mention only a single incident more. The 
 picture of Christ Healing the Sick was exhibited at 
 the Royal Academy in London, where it covered a 
 vast space, and displayed a multitude of figures as 
 large as life. On the wall, close beside this admirable 
 
244 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 picture, hung a small and faded landscape. It was 
 the same that little Ben had painted in his father's 
 garret, after receiving the paint-box and engravings 
 from good Mr. Pennington. 
 
 He lived many years in peace and honor, and died 
 in 1820, at the age of eighty-two. The story of his 
 life is almost as wonderful as a fairy tale ; for there 
 are few stranger transformations than that of a little 
 unknown Quaker boy, in the wilds of America, into 
 the most distinguished English painter of his day. 
 Let us each make the best use of our natural abili- 
 ties as Benjamin West did ; and, with the blessing of 
 Providence, we shall arrive at some good end. As for 
 fame, it is but little matter whether we acquire it or 
 not. 
 
 "Thank you for the story, my dear father," said 
 Edward, when it was finished. " Do you knov/ that 
 it seems as if I could see things without the help of 
 my eyes ? While you were speaking I have seen little 
 Ben, and the baby in its cradle, and the Indians, and 
 the white cow, and the pigs, and kind Mr. Pennington, 
 and all the good old Quakers, almost as plainly as if 
 they were in this very room." 
 
 " It is because your attention was not disturbed by 
 outward objects," replied Mr. Temple. " People, when 
 deprived of sight, often have more vivid ideas than 
 those who possess the perfect use of their eyes. I will 
 venture to say that George has not attended to the 
 story quite so closely." 
 
 " No, indeed," said George ; " but it was a very 
 pretty story for all that. How I should have laughed 
 to see Ben making a paint-brush out of the black cat's 
 tail ! I intend to try the experiment with Emily's 
 kitten." 
 
BENJAMIN WEST. 245 
 
 " Oh no, no, George ! " cried Emily, earnestly. *' My 
 kitten cannot spare her tail." 
 
 Edward being an invalid, it was now time for him 
 to retire to bed. When the family bade him good 
 night he turned his face towards them, looking very 
 loath to part. 
 
 " I shall not know when morning comes," said he, 
 sorrowfully. " And, besides, 1 want to hear your 
 voices all the time ; for, when nobody is speaking, it 
 seems as if I were alone in a dark world." 
 
 " You must have faith, my dear child," replied his 
 mother. " Faith is the soul's eyesight ; and when we 
 possess it the world is never dark nor lonely." 
 
CHAPTER in. 
 
 The next day Edward began to get accustomed to 
 Lis new condition of life. Once, indeed, when his par- 
 ents were out of the way and only Emily was left to 
 take care of him, he could not resist the temptation to 
 thrust aside the bandage, and peep at the anxious face 
 of his little nurse. But, in spite of the dimness of the 
 chamber, the experiment caused him so much pain 
 that he felt no inclination to take another look. So, 
 with a deep sigh, he resigned himself to his fate. 
 
 " Emily, pray talk to me ! " said he, somewhat im- 
 patiently. 
 
 Now, Emily was a remarkably silent little girl, and 
 did not possess that liveliness of disposition which ren- 
 ders some children such excellent companions. She 
 seldom laughed, and had not the faculty of making 
 many words about small matters. But the love and 
 earnestness of her heart taught her how to amuse poor 
 Edward in his darkness. She put her knitting-work 
 into his hands. 
 
 " You must learn how to knit," said she. 
 
 " What ! without using my eyes ? " cried Edward. 
 
 " I can knit with my eyes shut," replied Emily. 
 
 Then with her own little hands she guided Edward's 
 fingers while he set about this new occupation. So 
 awkward were his first attempts that any other little 
 girl would have laughed heartily. But Emily pre- 
 served her gravity, and showed the utmost patience in 
 taking up the innumerable stitches which he let down. 
 
 I 
 
SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 247 
 
 In tlie course of an hour or two, his progress was 
 quite encouraging. 
 
 When evening came, Edward acknowledged that 
 the day had been far less wearisome than he antici' 
 pated. But he was glad, nevertheless, when his fa- 
 ther and mother, and George and Emily, all took their 
 seats around his chair. He put out his hand to grasp 
 each of their hands, and smiled with a very bright ex- 
 pression upon his lips. 
 
 " Now I can see you all with my mind's eye," said 
 he. " And now, father, pray tell us another story." 
 
 So Mr. Temple began. 
 
 SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 
 
 [born 1642. DIED 1727.] 
 
 On Christmas Day, in the year 1642, Isaac Newton 
 was born at the small village of Woolsthorpe, in Eng- 
 land. Little did his mother think, when she beheld 
 her new-born babe, that he was destined to explain 
 many matters which had been a mystery ever since 
 the creation of the world. 
 
 Isaac's father being dead, Mrs. Newton was married 
 again to a clergyman, and went to reside at North 
 Witham. Her son was left to the care of his good old 
 grandmother, who was very kind to him and sent him 
 to school. In his early years Isaac did not appear to 
 be a very bright scholar, but was chiefly remarkable 
 for his ingenuity in all mechanical occupations. He 
 had a set of little tools and saws of various sizes man- 
 ufactured by himself. With the aid of these Isaac 
 contrived to make many curious articles, at which he 
 worked with so much skill that he seemed to have been 
 born with a saw or chisel in hand. 
 
 The neighbors looked with vast admiration at the 
 
248 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 things which Isaac manufactured. And his old grand- 
 mother, I suppose, was never weary of talking about 
 him. 
 
 " He '11 make a capital workman one of these days," 
 she would probably say. " No fear but what Isaac 
 will do weU in the world and be a rich man before he 
 dies." 
 
 It is amusing to conjecture what were the antici- 
 pations of his grandmother and the neighbors about 
 Isaac's future life. Some of them, perhaps, fancied 
 that he would make beautiful furniture of mahogany, 
 rosewood, or polished oak, inlaid with ivory and ebony, 
 and magnificently gilded. And then, doubtless, all 
 the rich people would purchase these fine things to 
 adorn their drawing-rooms. Others probably thought 
 that little Isaac was destined to be an architect, and 
 would build splendid mansions for the nobility and 
 gentry, and churches too, with the tallest steeples that 
 had ever been seen in England. 
 
 Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac's grand- 
 mother to apprentice him to a clock-maker ; for, be- 
 sides his mechanical skill, the boy seemed to have a 
 taste for mathematics, which would be very useful to 
 him in that profession. And then, in due time, Isaac 
 would set up for himself, and would manufacture curi- 
 ous clocks, like those that contain sets of dancing fig- 
 ures, which issue from the dial-plate when the hour is 
 struck ; or like those where a ship sails across the face 
 of the clock, and is seen tossing up and down on the 
 waves as often as the pendulum vibrates. 
 
 Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that 
 Isaac would devote himself to the manufacture of 
 clocks ; since he had already made one of a kind which 
 nobody had ever heard of before. It was set a-going, 
 
SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 249 
 
 not by wheels and weights like other clocks, but by 
 the dropping of Water. This was an object of great 
 wonderment to all the people round about; and it 
 must be confessed that there are few boys, or men 
 either, who could contrive to tell what o'clock it is by 
 means of a bowl of water. 
 
 Besides the water-clock, Isaac made a sundial. Thus 
 his grandmother was never at a loss to know the hour ; 
 for the water-clock would tell it in the shade, and the 
 dial in the simshine. The sundial is said to be stiU 
 in existence at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the 
 house where Isaac dwelt. If so, it must have marked 
 the passage of every sunny hour that has elapsed since 
 Isaac Newton was a boy. It marked all the famous 
 moments of his life ; it marked the hour of his death ; 
 and still the sunshine creeps slowly over it, as regu- 
 larly as when Isaac first set it up. 
 
 Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted 
 longer than its maker; for Isaac Newton wiU exist 
 long after the dial — yea, and long after the sun it- 
 self — shaU have crumbled to decay. 
 
 Isaac possessed a wonderful faculty of acquiring 
 knowledge by the simplest means. For instance, what 
 method do you suppose he took to find out the strength 
 of the wind ? You will never guess how the boy could 
 compel that unseen, inconstant, and ungovernable won- 
 der, the wind, to tell him the measure of its strength. 
 Yet nothing can be more simple. He jumped against 
 the wind ; and by the length of his jimip he coidd cal- 
 culate the force of a gentle breeze, a brisk gale, or a 
 tempest. Thus, even in his boyish sports, he was con- 
 tinually searching out the secrets of philosophy. 
 
 Not far from his grandmother's residence the-e was 
 a windmill which operated on a new plan. Isaac was 
 
250 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 in the habit of going thither frequently, and would 
 spend whole hours in examining its various parts. 
 While the mill was at rest he pried into its internal 
 machinery. When its broad sails were set in motion 
 by the wind, he watched the process by which the mill- 
 stones were made to revolve and crush the grain that 
 was put into the hopper. After gaining a thorough 
 knowledge of its construction he was observed to be 
 imusually busy with his tools. 
 
 It was not long before his grandmother and all the 
 neighborhood knew what Isaac had been about. He 
 had constructed a model of the windmiU, though not 
 so large, I suppose, as one of the box-trajis wliich boys 
 set to catch squirrels, yet every part of the mill and 
 its machinery was complete. Its little sails were neatly 
 made of linen, and whirled round very swiftly when 
 the mill was placed in a draught of air. Even a puff 
 of wind from Isaac's mouth or from a pair of bellows 
 was sufficient to set the sails in motion. And, what 
 was most curious, if a handful of grains of wheat were 
 put into the little hopper, they would soon be con- 
 verted into snow-white flour. 
 
 Isaac's playmates were enchanted with his new wind- 
 mill. They thought that nothing so pretty and so won- 
 derful had ever been seen in the whole world. 
 
 " But, Isaac," said one of them, " you have forgotten 
 one thing that belongs to a mill." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Isaac ; for he supposed 
 that, from the roof of the miU to its foundation, he 
 had forgotten nothing. 
 
 " Why, where is the miller ? " said his friend. 
 
 "That is true, — I must look out for one," said 
 Isaac; and he set himself to consider how the defi- 
 ciency should be supplied. 
 
SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 251 
 
 He miglit easily have made the miniature figure of 
 a man ; but then it would not have been able to move 
 about and perform the duties of a miller. As CajDtain 
 Lemuel Gulliver had not yet discovered the island of 
 Lilliput, Isaac did not know that there were little men 
 in the world whose size was just suited to his windmiUo 
 It so happened, however, that a mouse had just been 
 caught in the trap ; and, as no other miller could be 
 found, Mr. Mouse was appointed to that important 
 office. The new miller made a very respectable ap- 
 pearance in his dark-gray coat. To be sure, he had 
 not a very good character for honesty, and was sus- 
 pected of sometimes stealing a portion of the grain 
 which was given him to grind. But perhaps some 
 two-legged millers are quite as dishonest as this small 
 quadruped. 
 
 As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far 
 more important matters in his mind than the manu- 
 facture of toys like the little windmiU. AU day long, 
 if left to himseK, he was either absorbed in thought or 
 engaged in some book of mathematics or natural phi- 
 losophy. At night, I think it probable, he looked up 
 with reverential curiosity to the stars, and wondered 
 whether they were worlds like our own, and how great 
 was their distance from the earth, and what was the 
 power that kept them in their courses. Perhaps, even 
 so early in life, Isaac Newton felt a presentiment that 
 he should be able, hereafter, to answer all these ques- 
 tions. 
 
 When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother's 
 second husband being now dead, she wished her son to 
 leave school and assist her in managing the farm at 
 Woolsthorpe. For a year or two, therefore, he tried 
 to turn his attention to farming. But his mind waa 
 
252 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 BO bent on becoming a scholar that his mother sent 
 him back to school, and afterwards to the University 
 of Cambridge. 
 
 I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Newton'3 
 boyhood. My story would be far too long were I to 
 mention all the splendid discoveries which he made 
 after he came to be a man. He was the first that 
 found out the nature of light ; for, before his day, no- 
 body could tell what the sunshine was composed of. 
 You remember, I suppose, the story of an apple's fall- 
 mg on his head, and thus leading him to discover the 
 force of gravitation, which keeps the heavenly bodies 
 in their courses. When he had once got hold of this 
 idea, he never permitted his mind to rest until he had 
 searched out all the laws by which the planets are 
 guided through the sky. Tliis he did as thorouglily 
 as if he had gone up among the stars and tracked 
 them in their orbits. The boy had found out the 
 mechanism of a windmill ; the man explained to his 
 fellow-men the mechanism of the miiverse. 
 
 While making these researches he was accustomed 
 to spend night after night in a lofty tower, gazing at 
 the heavenly bodies through a telescope. His mind 
 was lifted far above the things of this world. He may 
 be said, indeed, to have spent the greater part of his 
 life in worlds that lie thousands and millions of miles 
 away ; for where the thoughts and the heart are, there 
 is our true existence. 
 
 Did you never hear the story of Newton and his lit- 
 tle dog Diamond ? One day, when he was fifty years 
 old, and had been hard at work more than twenty 
 years studying the theory of light, he went out of his 
 chamber, leaving his little clog asleep before the fire. 
 On the table lay a heap of manuscript papers, containr 
 
SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 253 
 
 Ing all the discoveries which Newton had made during 
 those twenty years. When his master was gone, up 
 rose little Diamond, jumped upon the table, and over- 
 threw the lighted candle. The papers immediately 
 caught fire. 
 
 Just as the destruction was completed Newi:on 
 opened the chamber door, and perceived that the la- 
 bors of twenty years were reduced to a heap of ashes. 
 There stood little Diamond, the author of all the mis- 
 chief. Almost any other man would have sentenced 
 the dog to immediate death. But Newton patted him 
 on the head with his usual kindness, although grief 
 was at his heart. 
 
 " O Diamond, Diamond," exclaimed he, " thou lit- 
 tle knowest the mischief thou hast done ! " 
 
 Tliis incident affected his health and spirits for 
 some time afterwards ; but, from his conduct towards 
 the little dog, you may judge what was the sweetness 
 of his temper. 
 
 Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired 
 great renown, and was made a member of Parliament, 
 and received the honor of knighthood from the king. 
 But he cared little for earthly fame and honors, and 
 felt no pride in the vastness of his knowledge. All 
 that he had learned only made him feel how little he 
 knew in comparison to what remained to be known. 
 
 " I seem to myself like a child," observed he, "■ play- 
 ing on the sea-shore, and picking up here and there a 
 curious shell or a pretty pebble, while the boundless 
 ocean of Truth lies undiscovered before me." 
 
 At last, in 1727, when he was forescore and five 
 years old. Sir Isaac Newton died,— or rather he ceased 
 to live on earth. We may be permitted to believe 
 that he is still searching out the infinite wisdom and 
 
254 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 goodness of the Creator as earnestly, and with even 
 more success, than wliile his spirit animated a mortal 
 body. He has left a fame behind him which will be 
 as endurable as if his name were written in letters of 
 light formed by the stars upon the midnight sky. 
 
 " I love to hear about mechanical contrivances, such, 
 as the water-clock and the little windmill," remarked 
 George. " I suppose, if Sir Isaac Newton had only 
 thought of it, he might have found out the steam- 
 engine, and railroads, and all the other famous inven- 
 tions that have come into use since his day." 
 
 "Very possibly he might," replied Mr. Temple; 
 "and no doubt a great many people would think it 
 more useful to manufacture steam-engines than to 
 search out the system of the universe. Other great 
 astronomers besides Newton have been endowed with 
 mechanical genius. There was David Rittenhouse, an 
 American, — he made a perfect little water-mill when 
 he was only seven or eight years old. But this sort of 
 ingenuity is but a mere trifle in comparison with the 
 other talents of such men." 
 
 " It must have been beautifid," said Edward, " to 
 spend whole nights in a high tower as Newton did, 
 gazing at the stars, and the comets, and the meteors. 
 But what would Newton have done had he been blind ? 
 or if his eyes had been no better than mine ? " 
 
 " Why, even then, my dear child," observed Mrs. 
 Temple, " he would have found out some way of en= 
 lightening his mind and of elevating his soul. But 
 come ; little Emily is waiting to bid you good-night. 
 You must go to sleep and dream of seeing all our 
 faces." 
 
 " But how sad it will be when I awake ! " murmured 
 Edwaxd. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In the course of the next day the harmony of our 
 little family was disturbed by something like a quarrel 
 between George and Edward. 
 
 The former, though he loved his brother dearly, had 
 found it quite too great a sacrifice of his own enjoy- 
 ments to spend all his play-time in a darkened cham- 
 ber. . Edward, on the other hand, was inclined to be 
 despotic. He felt as if his bandaged eyes entitled him 
 to demand that everybody who enjoyed the blessing of 
 sight shoidd contribute to his comfort and amusement. 
 He therefore insisted that George, instead of going out 
 to play football, should join with himself and Emily 
 in a game of questions and answers. 
 
 George resolutely refused, and ran out of the house. 
 He did not revisit Edward's chamber till the evening, 
 when he stole in, looking confused, yet somewhat sul- 
 len, and sat down beside his father's chair. It was 
 evident, by a motion of Edward's head and a slight 
 trembling of his lips, that he was aware of George's 
 entrance, though his footsteps had been almost inaudi- 
 ble. Emily, with her serious and earnest little face, 
 looked from one to the other, as if she longed to be a 
 messenger of peace between them. 
 
 Mr. Temple, without seeming to notice any of these 
 circumstances, began a story. 
 
256 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 [born 1709. DIED 17S4.] 
 
 " Sam." said Mr. Michael Jolinson, of Lichfield, one 
 morning, " I am very feeble and ailing to-day. You 
 must go to Uttoxeter in my stead, and tend the book- 
 stall in the market-place there." 
 
 This was spoken above a hundred years ago by an 
 elderly man, who had once been a thriving bookseller 
 at Lichfield, in England. Being now in reduced cir- 
 cumstances, he was forced to go every market-day and 
 sell books at a stall, in the neighboring village of Ut- 
 toxeter. 
 
 His son, to whom Mr. Johnson spoke, was a great 
 boy, of very singular aspect. He had an intelligent 
 face ; but it was seamed and distorted by a scrofulous 
 humor, which affected his eyes so badly that sometimes 
 he was almost blind. Owing to the same cause his 
 head would often shake with a tremulous motion as if 
 he were afflicted with the palsy. When Sam was an 
 infant, the famous Queen Anne had tried to cure him 
 of this disease by laying her royal hands upon his 
 head. But though the touch of the king or queen was 
 supposed to be a certain remedy for scrofula, it pro- 
 duced no good effect upon Sam Johnson. 
 
 At the time which we speak of the poor lad was not 
 very well dressed, and wore shoes from which his toes 
 peeped out ; for his old father had barely the means of 
 supporting his wife and children. But, poor as the 
 family were, young Sam Johnson had as much pride 
 as any nobleman's son in England. The fact was, he 
 felt conscious of uncommon sense and ability, which, 
 in his own opinion, entitled him to great respect from 
 the world. Perhaps he would have been glad if grown 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 257 
 
 people had treated him as reverentially as his school- 
 fellows did. Three of them were accustomed to come 
 for him every morning; and while he sat upon the 
 back of one, the two others supported him on each 
 side ; and thus he rode to school in triumph. 
 
 Being a personage of so much importance, Sam could 
 not bear the idea of standing all day in Uttoxeter mar- 
 ket offering books to the rude and ignorant country 
 people. Doubtless he felt more reluctant on account 
 of his shabby clothes, and the disorder of his eyes, and 
 the tremulous motion of his head. 
 
 When Mr. Michael Johnson spoke, Sam pouted and 
 made an indistinct grumbling in his throat ; then he 
 looked his old father in the face, and answered him 
 loudly and deliberately. 
 
 " Sir," said he, " I will not go to Uttoxeter mar- 
 ket!" 
 
 Mr. Johnson had seen a great deal of the lad's ob- 
 stinacy ever since his birth ; and while Sam was 
 younger, the old gentleman had probably used the rod 
 whenever occasion seemed to require. But he was 
 now too feeble and too much out of spirits to contend 
 with this stubborn and violent - tempered boy. He 
 therefore gave up the point at once, and prepared 
 to go to Uttoxeter himself. 
 
 " Well, Sam," said Mr. Johnson, as he took his hat 
 and staff, " if for the sake of your foolish pride you 
 can suffer your poor sick father to stand all day in the 
 noise and confusion of the market when he ought to 
 be in his bed, I have no more to say. But you will 
 think of this, Sam, when I am dead and gone." ^ 
 
 So the poor old man (perhaps with a tear in his 
 eye, but certainly with sorrow in his heart) set forth 
 towards Uttoxeter. The gray-haired, feeble, melan- 
 
258 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 cboly Michael Johnson ! How sad a thing it was that 
 he should be forced to go, in his sickness, and toil for 
 the support of an ungrateful son who was too proud to 
 do anything for his father, or his mother, or himself I 
 Sam looked after Mr. Johnson with a sullen counte- 
 nance till he was out of sight. 
 
 But when the old man's figure, as he went stooping 
 along the street, was no more to be seen, the boy's 
 heart began to smite him. He had a vivid imagina- 
 tion, and it tormented him with the image of his 
 father standing in the market-place of Uttoxeter and 
 offering his books to the noisy crowd around him. 
 Sam seemed to behold him arranging his literary mer- 
 chandise upon the stall in such a way as was best cal- 
 culated to attract notice. Here was Addison's " Spec- 
 tator," a long row of little volumes ; here was Pope's 
 translation of the Iliad and Odyssey ; here were Dry- 
 den's poems, or those of Prior, Here, likewise, were 
 " Gulliver's Travels," and a variety of little gilt-oov- 
 ered children's books, such as " Tom Thumb, " " Jack 
 the Giant Queller," " Mother Goose's Melodies," and 
 others which our great-grandparents used to read in 
 their childhood. And here were sermons for the 
 pious, and pamphlets for the politicians, and ballads, 
 some merry and some dismal ones, for the country 
 people to sing. 
 
 Sam, in imagination, saw his father offer these 
 books, pamphlets, and ballads, now to the rude yeo- 
 men, who perhaps could not read a word ; now to the 
 country squires, who cared for nothing but to hunt 
 hares and foxes ; now to the children, who chose to 
 spend their coppers for sugar -plums or gingerbread 
 rather than for picture-books. And if Mr. Johnson 
 should sell a book to man, woman, or child, it would 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 953 
 
 cost him an hour's talk to get a profit of only six- 
 pence. 
 
 " My poor father! " thought Sam to himself. *' How 
 his head will ache ! and how heavy his heart will be I 
 I am almost sorry that I did not do as he bade me." 
 
 Then the boy went to his mother, who was busy 
 about the house. She did not know of what had passed 
 between Mr. Johnson and Sam. 
 
 " Mother," said he, " did you think father seemed 
 very ill to-day ? " 
 
 "Yes, Sam," answered his mother, turning with a 
 flushed face from the fire, where she was cookins: their 
 scanty dinner. " Your father did look very ill ; and 
 it is a pity he did not send you to Uttoxeter in his 
 stead. You are a great boy now, and would rejoice, 
 I am sure, to do something for your poor father, who 
 has done so much for you." 
 
 The lad made no reply. But again his imagination 
 set to work and conjured up another picture of poor 
 Michael Johnson. He was standing in the hot sun- 
 shine of the market-place, and looking so weary, sick, 
 and disconsolate, that the eyes of all the crowd were 
 drawn to him. " Had this old man no son," the peo- 
 ple would say among themselves, " who might have 
 taken his place at the book-stall while the father kept 
 his bed ? " And perhaps, — but this was a terrible 
 thought for Sam ! — perhaps his father would faint 
 away and fall down in the market-place, with his gray 
 hair in the dust and his venerable face as deatlililve as 
 that of a corpse. And there would be the by-standers 
 gazing earnestly at Mr. Johnson and whispering, " Is 
 he dead? Is he dead?" 
 
 And Sam shuddered as he repeated to himself, " Li 
 he dead?" 
 
260 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 " Oh, I have been a cruel son ! " thought he within 
 his own heart. " God forgive me ! God forgive me ! '* 
 
 But God could not yet forgive him ; for he was not 
 truly penitent. Had he been so, he would have has- 
 tened away that very moment to Uttoxeter, and have 
 fallen at his father's feet, even in the midst of the 
 crowded market-place. There he would have con- 
 fessed his fault, and besought Mr. Johnson to go home 
 and leave the rest of the day's work to him. But such 
 was Sam's pride and natural stubbornness that he 
 could not bring himself to this humiliation. Yet he 
 ought to have done so, for his own sake, for his father's 
 sake, and for God's sake. 
 
 After sunset old Michael Johnson came slowly 
 home and sat down in liis customary chair. He said 
 nothing to Sam ; nor do I know that a single word 
 ever passed between them on the subject of the son's 
 disobedience. In a few years his father died, and left 
 Sam to fight his way through the world by himself. 
 It would make our story much too long were I to tell 
 you even a few of the remarkable events of Sam's life. 
 Moreover, there is the less need of this, because many 
 books have been written about that poor boy, and the 
 fame that he acquired, and all that he did or talked of 
 doing after he came to be a man. 
 
 But one thing I must not neglect to say. From his 
 boyhood upward until the latest day of his life he 
 never forgot the story of Uttoxeter market. Often 
 when ho was a scholar of the University of Oxford, or 
 master of an academy at Edial, or a writer for the 
 London booksellers, — in all his poverty and toil and 
 in all his success, — while he was walking the streets 
 without a shilling to buy food, or when the greatest 
 men of England were proud to feast him at their 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 2G1 
 
 table, — still that heavy and remorseful thought came 
 back to him, " I was cruel to my poor father in his ill- 
 ness ! " Many and many a time, awake or in his 
 dreams, he seemed to see old Michael Johnson stand- 
 ing in the dust and confusion of the market-place, and 
 pressing his withered hand to his forehead as if it 
 ached. 
 
 Alas! my dear children, it is a sad thing to have 
 such a thought as this to bear us company through 
 life. 
 
 Though the story was but half finished, yet, as it 
 was longer than usual, Mr. Temple here made a short 
 pause. He perceived that Emily was in tears, and 
 Edward turned his half -veiled face towards the speaker 
 with an air of great earnestness and interest. As for 
 George, he had withdrawn into the dusky shadow be- 
 hind his father's cllairo 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 In a few moments Mr. Temple resmned the story, 
 as follows : — 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 [continued.] 
 
 Well, my children, fifty years had passed away since 
 young Sam Johnson had shown himself so hard-hearted 
 towards his father. It was now market-day in the vil- 
 lage of Uttoxeter. 
 
 In the street of the village you might see cattle- 
 dealers with cows and oxen for sale, and pig-drovers 
 with herds of squeaking swine, and farmers with cart= 
 loads of cabbages, turnips, onions, and all other prod- 
 uce of the soil. Now and then a farmer's red-faced 
 wife trotted along on horseback, with butter and 
 cheese in two large panniers. The people of the vil- 
 lage, with country squires, and other visitors from the 
 neighborhood, walked hither and thither, trading, 
 jesting, quarrelling, and making just such a bustle as 
 their fathers and grandfathers had made half a cen- 
 tury before. 
 
 In one part of the street there was a puppet-show, 
 with a ridiculous merry-andrew, who kept both grown 
 people and children in a roar of laughter. On the op- 
 posite side was the old stone church of Uttoxeter, with 
 ivy climbing up its walls and partly obscuring its 
 Gothic windows. 
 
 There was a clock in the gray tower of the ancient 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 263 
 
 church, and the hands on the dial-plate had now al- 
 most reached the hour of noon. At this busiest hour 
 of the market a strange old gentleman was seen mak- 
 ing his way among the crowd. He was very tall and 
 bulky, and wore a brown coat and small-clothes, with 
 black worsted stockings and buckled shoes. On his 
 head was a three-cornered hat, beneath which a bushy 
 gray wig thrust itself out, all in disorder. The old 
 gentleman elbowed the people aside, and forced his 
 way through the midst of them with a singular kind of 
 gait, rolling his body hither and thither, so that he 
 needed twice as much room as any other person there. 
 
 " Make way, sir ! " he would cry out, in a loud, 
 harsh voice, when somebody happened to interrupt his 
 progress. " Sir, you intrude your person into the pub- 
 lic thoroughfare ! " 
 
 " What a queer old fellow this is ! " muttered the 
 people among themselves, hardly knowing whether to 
 laugh or to be angry. 
 
 But when they looked into the venerable stranger's 
 face, not the most thoughtless among them dared to 
 offer him the least impertinence. Though his features 
 were scarred and distorted with the scrofula, and 
 though his eyes were dim and bleared, yet there was 
 something of authority and wisdom in his look, which 
 impressed them all with awe. So they stood aside to 
 let him pass ; and the old gentleman made his way 
 across the market-place, and paused near the corner of 
 the ivy-mantled church. Just as he reached it the 
 clock struck twelve. 
 
 On the very spot of ground where the stranger now 
 stood some aged people remembered that old Michael 
 Johnson had formerly kept his book-stall. The little 
 children who had once bought picture-books of him 
 were srrandfathers now. 
 
284 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 " Yes ; here is the very spot ! " muttered the old 
 gentleman to himself. 
 
 There this unknown personage took his stand and 
 removed the three-cornered hat from his head. It was 
 the busiest hour of the day. What with the hum of 
 human voices, the lowing of cattle, the squeaking of 
 pigs, and the laughter caused by the merry-andrew, 
 the market-place was in very great confusion. But the 
 stranger seemed not to notice it any more than if the 
 silence of a desert were around him. He was rapt in 
 his own thoughts. Sometimes he raised his furrowed 
 brow to Heaven, as if in prayer ; sometimes he bent 
 his head, as if an in supj^or table weight of sorrow were 
 upon him. It increased the awfulness of his aspect 
 that there was a motion of his head and an almost 
 continual tremor throughout his frame, with singular 
 twitchings and contortions of his features. 
 
 The hot sun blazed upon liis unprotected head ; but 
 he seemed not to feel its fervor. A dark cloud swept 
 across the sky and rain-drops pattered into the market- 
 place ; but the stranger heeded not the shower. The 
 people began to gaze at the mysterious old gentleman 
 with superstitious fear and wonder. Who could he 
 be ? Whence did he come ? Wherefore was he stand- 
 ing bareheaded in the market-place ? Even the school- 
 boys left the merry-andrew and came to gaze, with 
 wide-open eyes, at this tall, strange-looking old man. 
 
 There was a cattle-drover in the viUage who had 
 recently made a journey to the Smithfield Market, 
 in London. No sooner had this man thrust his way 
 through the throng and taken a look at the unknown 
 personage, than he whispered to one of his acquain- 
 tances, — 
 
 " I say. Neighbor Hutchins, would ye like to know 
 who this old gentleman is ? '* 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 2G5 
 
 "Ay, that I would," replied Neighbor HutcLins^ 
 ** for a queerer chap I never saw in my life. Some- 
 how it makes me feel small to look at him. He's 
 more than a common man." 
 
 " You may well say so," answered the cattle-drover. 
 "Why, that's the famous Doctor Samuel Johnson, 
 who they say is the greatest and learnedest man in 
 England. I saw him in London streets, walking with 
 one Mr. Boswell." 
 
 Yes ; the poor boy, the friendless Sam, with whom 
 we began our story, had become the famous Doctor 
 Samuel Johnson. He was universally acknowledged 
 as the wisest man and greatest writer in all England. 
 He had given shape and permanence to his native lan- 
 guage by his Dictionary. Thousands upon thousands 
 of people had read his "Idler," his "Rambler," and his 
 " Rasselas." Noble and wealthy men and beautiful 
 ladies deemed it their highest privilege to be his com- 
 panions. Even the King of Great Britain had sought 
 his acquaintance, and told him what an honor he con- 
 sidered it that such a man had been born in his domin- 
 ions. He was now at the summit of literary renown. 
 
 But all his fame could not extinguish the bitter 
 remembrance which had tormented him through life. 
 Never^ never had he forgotten his father's sorrowful 
 and upbraiding look. Never, though the old man's 
 troubles had been over so many years, had he forgiven 
 himseK for inflicting such a pang upon his heart. 
 And now, in his old age, he had come hither to do 
 penance, by standing at noonday, lq the market-place 
 of Uttoxeter, on the very spot where Michael Johnson 
 had once kept his book-staU. The aged and illustri- 
 ous man had done what the poor boy refused to do. 
 By thus expressing his deep repentance and humilia- 
 
266 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 tion of heart, he hoped to gain peace of conscience and 
 the forgiveness of God. 
 
 My dear children, if you have grieved (I will not 
 say your parents, but if you have grieved) the heart 
 of any human being who has a claim upon your love, 
 then think of Samuel Johnson's penance. WUl it not 
 be better to redeem the error now than to endure the 
 agony of remorse for fifty years? Would you not 
 rather say to a brother, " I have erred ; forgive me ! " 
 than perhaps to go hereafter and shed bitter tears upon 
 his grave ? 
 
 Hardly was the story concluded when George has- 
 tily arose, and Edward likewise, stretching forth his 
 hands into the darkness that surrounded him to find 
 his brother. Both accused themselves of unkindness ; 
 each besought the other's forgiveness; and having 
 done so, the trouble of their hearts vanished away like 
 a dream. 
 
 " I am glad ! I am so glad ! " said Emily, in a low, 
 earnest voice. " Now I shall sleep quietly to-night." 
 
 "My sweet child," thought Mrs. Temple as she 
 kissed her, " mayest thou never know how much strife 
 there is on earth 1 It would cost thee many a night's 
 rest." 
 
CHAPTER VL 
 
 About this period Mr. Temple found it necessary 
 to take a journey, which interrupted the series of 
 "Biographical Stories" for several evenings. In the 
 interval, Edward practised various methods of employ, 
 ing and amusing his mind. 
 
 Sometimes he meditated upon beautiful objects which 
 he had formerly seen, until the intensity of his recol- 
 lection seemed to restore him the gift of sight and 
 place everything anew before his eyes. Sometimes he 
 repeated verses of poetry which he did not know to be 
 in his memory until he found them there just at the 
 time of need. Sometimes he attempted to solve arith- 
 metical questions which had perplexed him while at 
 school. 
 
 Then, with his mother's assistance, he learned the 
 letters of the string alphabet, which is used in some of 
 the institutions for the blind in Europe. When one 
 of his friends gave him a leaf of St. Mark's Gospel, 
 printed in embossed characters, he endeavored to read 
 it by passing his fingers over the letters as blind chil- 
 dren do. 
 
 His brother George was now very kind, and spent 
 so much time in the darkened chamber that Edward 
 often insisted upon his going out to play. George 
 told him all about the affairs at school, and related 
 many amusing incidents that happened among his com- 
 rades, and informed him what sports were now in fash- 
 ion, and whose kite soared the highest, and whose lit- 
 
268 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES, 
 
 tie ship sailed fleetest on the Frog Pond. As for 
 Emily, she repeated stories which she had learned 
 from a new book called "The Flower People," in 
 which the snow-drops, the violets, the columbines, tho 
 roses, and all that lovely tribe are represented as tell- 
 ing their secrets to a little girl. The flowers talked 
 sweetly, as flowers should; and Edward almost fan- 
 cied that he could behold their bloom and smell their 
 fragrant breath. 
 
 Thus, in one way or another, the dark days of Ed- 
 ward's confinement passed not unhappily. In due 
 time his father returned ; and the next evening, when 
 the family were assembled, he began a story. 
 
 "I must first observe, children," said he, "that 
 some writers deny the truth of the incident which I am 
 about to relate to you. There certainly is but little 
 evidence in favor of it. Other respectable writers, 
 however, tell it for a fact ; and, at all events, it is an 
 interesting story, and has an excellent moral." 
 
 So Mr. Temple proceeded to talk about the early 
 days of 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 [born 1599. DIED 1658.] 
 
 Not long after King James I. took the place of 
 Queen Elizabeth on the throne of England, there lived 
 an Enghsh knight at a place called Hinchinbrooke. 
 His name was Sir Oliver Cromwell. He spent his 
 life, I suppose, pretty much like other English knights 
 and squires in those days, hunting hares and foxes and 
 drinking large quantities of ale and wine. The old 
 house in which he dwelt had been occupied by his an- 
 cestors before him for a good many years. In it there 
 was a great hall, hung round with coats of arms and 
 helmets, cuirasses and swords, which his forefathers 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 2G9 
 
 had used in battle, and with horns of deer and tails of 
 foxes which they or Sir Oliver himself had killed in 
 the chase. 
 
 This Sir Oliver Cromwell had a nephew, who had 
 been called Oliver, after himself, but who was geneu- 
 ally known in the family by the name of little Noll. 
 His father was a younger brother of Sir Oliver. The 
 child was often sent to visit his uncle, who probably 
 found him a troublesome little fellow to take care of. 
 He was forever in miscliief, and always running into 
 some danger or other, from which he seemed to escape 
 only by miracle. 
 
 Even while he was an infant in the cradle a stranfre 
 accident had befallen him. A huge ape, which was 
 kept in the family, snatched up little NoU in his fore 
 paws and clambered with him to the roof of the house. 
 There this ugly beast sat grinning at the affrighted 
 spectators, as if it had done the most praiseworthy 
 thing imaginable. Fortunately, however, he brought 
 the child safe down again ; and the event was after- 
 wards considered an omen that NoU would reach a 
 very elevated station in the world. 
 
 One morning, when NoU was five or six years old, a 
 royal messenger arrived at Hinchinbrooke with tidings 
 that King James was coming to dine Tvdth Sir Oliver 
 Cromwell. This was a high honor, to be sure, but a 
 very great trouble ; for aU the lords and ladies, knights, 
 squires, guards, and yeomen, who waited on the king, 
 were to be feasted as weU as himself ; and more provi- 
 sions would be eaten and more wine drunk in that one 
 day than generally in a month. However, Sir Oliver 
 expressed much thankfulness for the king's intended 
 visit, and ordered his butler and cook to make the best 
 preparations in their power. So a great fire was kin- 
 
270 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES,' 
 
 died in the kitchen ; and the neighbors knew, by the 
 smoke which poured out of the chimney, that boiling, 
 baking, stewing, roasting, and frying were going on 
 merrily. 
 
 By and by the sound of trumpets was heard ap- 
 proaching nearer and nearer ; a heavy, old-fashioned 
 coach, surrounded by guards on horseback, drove up 
 to the house. Sir Oliver, with his hat in his hand, 
 stood at the gate to receive the king. His Majesty 
 was dressed in a suit of green not very new : he had a 
 feather in liis hat, and a triple ruff round his neck, and 
 over his shoulder was slimg a hunting-horn instead of 
 a sword. Altogether he had not the most dignified 
 aspect in the world ; but the spectators gazed at him 
 as if there was something superhuman and divine in 
 his person. They even shaded their eyes with their 
 hands, as if they were dazzled by the glory of his coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 "How are ye, man?" cried King James, speaking 
 in a Scotch accent ; for Scotland was his native coun- 
 try. " By my crown. Sir Oliver, but I am glad to see 
 ye!" 
 
 The good knight thanked the king ; at the same 
 time kneeling down while his Majesty alighted. When 
 King James stood on the ground, he directed Sir Oli- 
 ver's attention to a little boy who had come with him 
 in the coach. He was six or seven years old, and wore 
 a hat and feather, and was more richly dressed than 
 the king himself. Though by no means an ill-looking 
 child, he seemed shy, or even sulky; and his cheeks 
 were rather pale, as if he had been kept moping 
 within doors, instead of being sent out to play in the 
 Bun and wind. 
 
 " I have brought my son Charlie to see ye,** said the 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 271 
 
 king. " I hope, Sir Oliver, ye have a son of your own 
 to be his playmate." 
 
 Sir Oliver Cromwell made a reverential bow to the 
 little prince, whom one of the attendants had now 
 taken out of the coach. It was wonderful to see how 
 all the spectators, even the aged men with their gray 
 beards, humbled themselves before this child. They 
 bent their bodies till their beards almost swept the 
 dust. They looked as if they were ready to kneel 
 down and worship him. 
 
 The poor little prince ! From his earliest infancy 
 not a soul had dared to contradict him; everybody 
 around him had acted as if he were a superior being ; 
 so that, of course, he had imbibed the same opinion of 
 himself. He naturally supposed that the whole king- 
 dom of Great Britain and all its inhabitants had been 
 created solely for his benefit and amusement. This 
 was a sad mistake ; and it cost him dear enough after 
 he had ascended his father's throne. 
 
 " What a noble little prince he is ! " exclaimed Sir 
 Oliver, lifting his hands in admiration. " No, please 
 your Majesty, I have no son to be the playmate of his 
 royal highness ; but there is a nephew of mine some- 
 where about the house. He is near the prince's age, 
 and will be but too happy to wait upon his royal high- 
 ness." 
 
 " Send for him, man ! send for him ! " said the king. 
 
 But, as it happened, there was no need of sending 
 for Master Noll. While King James was speaking, a 
 nigged, bold-faced, sturdy little urchin thrust liimself 
 through the throng of courtiers and attendants, and 
 greeted the prince with a broad stare. His doublet 
 and hose (which had been put on new and clean in 
 honor of the king's visit) were already soiled and torn 
 
272 BIOGRAPHICAL STORlES. 
 
 witli the rough play in which he had spent the mom- 
 ino-. He looked no more abashed than if King James 
 were his uncle and the prince one of his customary 
 playfellows. 
 
 This was little Noll himself. 
 
 " Here, please your majesty, is my nephew," said 
 Sir Oliver, somewhat ashamed of Noll's appearance 
 and demeanor. " Oliver, make your obeisance to the 
 king's majesty." 
 
 The boy made a pretty respectful obeisance to the 
 king ; for in those days children were taught to pay 
 reverence to their elders. King James, who prided 
 himself greatly on his scholarship, asked Noll a few 
 questions in the Latin grammar, and then introduced 
 him to his son. The little prince, in a very grave and 
 dignified manner, extended his hand, not for Noll to 
 shake, but that he might kneel down and kiss it. 
 
 " Nephew," said Sir Oliver, " pay your duty to the 
 prince." 
 
 " I owe him no duty," cried Noll, thrusting aside 
 the prince's hand with a rude laugh. " Why should I 
 kiss that boy's hand ? " 
 
 All the courtiers were amazed and confounded, and 
 Sir Oliver the most of all. But the king laughed 
 heartily, saying that little Noll had a stubborn Eng- 
 lish spirit, and that it was well for his son to learn be- 
 times what sort of a people he was to rule over. 
 
 So King James and his train entered the house; 
 and the prince, with Noll and some other children, was 
 sent to play in a separate room while his Majesty was 
 at dinner. The young people soon became acquainted ; 
 for boys, whether the sons of monarchs or of peasants, 
 all like play, and are pleased with one another's so- 
 ciety. What games they diverted themselves with I 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 273 
 
 cannot tell. Perhaps they played at baU, perhaps at 
 bliud-man's-buff, perhaps at leap-frog, perhaps at pris- 
 on-bars. Such games have been in use for hundreds 
 of years ; and princes as well as poor children have 
 spent some of their happiest hours in playing at them. 
 
 Meanwhile King James and his nobles were feasting 
 with Sir Oliver in the great haU. The king sat in 
 a gilded chair, under a canopy, at the head of a long 
 table. Whenever any of the company addressed him, 
 it was with the deepest reverence. If the attendants 
 offered him wine, or the various delicacies of the festi- 
 val, it was upon their bended knees. You would have 
 thought, by these tokens of worship, that the monarch 
 was a supernatural ^eing ; only he seemed to have 
 quite as much need of those vulgar matters, food and 
 drink, as any other person at the table. But fate had 
 ordained that good King James should not finish his 
 dinner in peace. 
 
 AU of a sudden there arose a terrible uproar in the 
 room where the children were at play. Angry shouts 
 and shrill cries of alarm were mixed up together; 
 while the voices of elder persons were likewise heard, 
 trying to restore order among the children. The king 
 and everybody else at table looked aghast ; for per- 
 haps the tumult made them think that a general re- 
 bellion had broken out. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! " muttered Sir Oliver ; " that grace- 
 less nephew of mine is in some mischief or other. The 
 naughty little whelp ! " 
 
 Getting up from table, he ran to see what was the 
 matter, followed by many of the guests, and the king 
 among them. They aU crowded to the door of the 
 playroom. 
 
 On looking in, they beheld Ihe little Prince Charles, 
 
274 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 mth his ricli dress all torn and covered with the dust 
 of the floor. His royal blood was streaming from his 
 nose in great abundance. He gazed at Noll with a 
 mixture of rage and affright, and at the same time a 
 puzzled expression, as if he could not understand how 
 any mortal boy should dare to give him a beating. As 
 for Noll, there stood his sturdy little figure, bold as a 
 lion, looking as if he were ready to fight, not only the 
 prince, but the king and kingdom too. 
 
 " You little villain I " cried his uncle. " What have 
 you been about ? Down on your knees, this instant, 
 and ask the prince's pardon. How dare you lay your 
 hands on the king's majesty's royal son ? " 
 
 " He struck me first," grumbled the valiant little 
 Noll ; " and I 've only given him his due." 
 
 Sir Oliver and the guests lifted up their hands in 
 astonishment and horror. No punishment seemed se- 
 vere enough for this wicked little varlet, who had 
 dared to resent a blow from the king's own son. Some 
 of the courtiers were of opinion that Noil should be 
 sent prisoner to the Tower of London and brought to 
 trial for high treason. Others, in their great zeal for 
 the king's service, were about to lay hands on the boy 
 and chastise him in the royal presence. 
 
 But King James, who sometimes showed a good deal 
 of sagacity, ordered them to desist. 
 
 " Thou art a bold boy," said he, looking fixedly at 
 little Noll; "and, if thou live to be a man, my son 
 Charlie would do wisely to be friends with thee." 
 
 " I never will ! " cried the little prince, stamping his 
 foot. 
 
 " Peace, Charlie, peace ! " said the king ; then ad- 
 dressing Sir Oliver and the attendants, " Harm not 
 the urchin ; for he has taught my son a good lesson, 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 275 
 
 if Heaven do but give him grace to profit by it. Here- 
 after, should he be tempted to tyrannize over the stub- 
 born race of Englishmen, let him remember little Koll 
 Cromwell and his own bloody nose." 
 
 So the king finished his dinner and departed ; and 
 for many a long year the childish quarrel between 
 Prince Charles and Noll Cromwell was forgotten. 
 The prince, indeed, might have lived a happier life, 
 and have met a more peaceful death, had he remem- 
 bered that quarrel and the moral which his father 
 drew from it. But when old King James was dead, 
 and Charles sat upon his throne, he seemed to forget 
 that he was but a man, and that his meanest subjects 
 were men as well as he. He wished to have the prop- 
 erty and lives of the people of England entirely at his 
 own disposal. But the Puritans, and all who loved 
 liberty, rose against him and beat him in many bat- 
 tles, and pulled him down from his throne. 
 
 Throughout this war between the king and nobles on 
 one side and the people of England on the other, there 
 was a famous leader, who did more towards the ruin 
 of royal authority than all the rest. The contest 
 seemed like a wrestling-match between King Charles 
 and this strong man. And the king was overthrown. 
 
 When the discrowned monarch was brought to trial, 
 that warlike leader sat in the judgment hall. Many 
 judges were present besides himself ; but he alone had 
 the power to save King Charles or to doom him to the 
 scaffold. After sentence was pronounced, this victori- 
 ous general was entreated by his own children, on their 
 knees, to rescue his Majesty from death. 
 
 " No ! " said he, sternly. " Better that one man 
 should perish than that the whole country should be 
 ruined for his sake. It is resolved that he shall die I " 
 
276 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 When Charles, no longer a king, was led to the scat 
 fold, his great enemy stood at a window of the royal 
 palace of Whitehall. He beheld the poor victim of 
 pride, and an evil education, and misused power, as 
 he laid his head upon the block. He looked out with 
 a steadfast gaze while a black-veiled executioner lifted 
 the fatal axe and smote off that anointed head at a 
 single blow. 
 
 " It is a righteous deed," perhaps he said to himself. 
 " Now Englishmen may enjoy their rights." 
 
 At night, when the body of Charles was laid in the 
 coffin, in a gloomy chamber, the general entered, light- 
 ing himself with a torch. Its gleam showed that he 
 was now growing old ; his visage was scarred with the 
 many battles in which he had led the van ; his brow 
 was wrinkled with care and with the continual exer- 
 cise of stern authority. Probably there was not a 
 single trait, either of aspect or manner, that belonged 
 to the little Noll who had battled so stoutly with 
 Prince Charles. Yet this was he ! 
 
 He lifted the coffin-lid, and caused the light of his 
 torch to fall upon the dead monarch's face. Then, 
 probably, his mind went back over all the marvellous 
 events that had brought the hereditary King of Eng- 
 land to this dishonored coffin, and had raised him- 
 self, a humble individual, to the possession of kingly 
 power. He was a king, though without the emj^ty 
 title or the glittering crown. 
 
 " Why was it," said Cromwell to himself, or might 
 have said, as he gazed at the pale features in the cof- 
 fin, — " why v/as it that this great king fell, and that 
 poor Noll Cromwell has gained all the power of the 
 realm ? " 
 
 Aad, indeed, why was it? 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 211 
 
 King Charles had fallen, because, m his manhood 
 the same as when a child, he disdained to feel that 
 every human creature was his brother. He deemed 
 himself a superior being, and fancied that his sub- 
 jects were created only for a king to rule over. And 
 Cromwell rose, because, in spite of his many faults, 
 he mainly fought for the rights and freedom of Jiis fel- 
 low-men ; and therefore the poor and the oppressed 
 all lent their strength to him. 
 
 " Dear father, how I should hate to be a king ! '* 
 exclaimed Edward. 
 
 " And would you like to be a Cromwell ? " inquired 
 his father. 
 
 "I should like it well," replied George; "only I 
 would not have put the poor old king to death. I 
 would have sent him out of the kingdom, or perhaps 
 have allowed him to live in a small house near the 
 gate of the royal palace. It was too severe to cut off 
 his head." 
 
 " Kings are in such an unfortunate position," said 
 Mr. Temple, " that they must either be almost deified 
 by their subjects, or else be dethroned and beheaded. 
 In either case it is a pitiable lot." 
 
 " Oh, I had rather be blind than be a king ! " said 
 Edward. 
 
 " Well, my dear Edward," observed his mother, 
 with a smile, " I am glad you are convinced that your 
 own lot is not the hardest in the world." 
 
CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 It was a pleasant sight, for those who had eyes, to 
 see how patiently the blinded little boy now submitted 
 to what he had at first deemed an intolerable calamity. 
 The beneficent Creator has not allowed our comfort to 
 depend on the enjoyment of any single sense. Though 
 he has made the world so very beautiful, yet it is pos- 
 sible to be happy without ever beholding the blue sky, 
 or the green and flowery earth, or the kind faces of 
 those whom we love. Thus it appears that all the ex- 
 ternal beauty of the universe is a free gift from God 
 over and above what is necessary to our comfort. How 
 grateful, then, should we be to that divine Benevo- 
 lence, which showers even superfluous bounties upon 
 us! 
 
 One truth, therefore, which Edward's blindness had 
 taught him was, that his mind and soul coidd dispense 
 with the assistance of his eyes. Doubtless, however, 
 he would have found this lesson far more difficult to 
 learn had it not been for the affection of those around 
 him. His parents, and George and Emily, aided him 
 to bear his misfortune ; if possible, they would have 
 lent him their own eyes. And this, too, was a good 
 lesson for him. It taught him how dependent on one 
 another God has ordained us to be, insomuch that all 
 the necessities of mankind should incite them to mu- 
 tual love. 
 
 So Edward loved his friends, and perhaps all the 
 world J better than he ever did before. And he felt 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 279 
 
 grateful towards his father for spending the evenings 
 in telling him stories, — more grateful, probably, than 
 any of my little readers will feel towards me for so 
 carefully writing these same stories down. 
 
 " Come, dear father," said he, the next evening, 
 " now tell us about some other little boy who was des- 
 tined to be a famous man." 
 
 " How would you like a story of a Boston boy ? " 
 asked his father. 
 
 " Oh, pray let us have it ! " cried George, eagerly. 
 " It will be all the better if he has been to our schools, 
 and has coasted on the Common, and sailed boats in 
 the Frog Pond. I shall feel acquainted with liim 
 then." 
 
 " Well, then," said Mr. Temple, " I will introduce 
 you to a Boston boy whom all the world became ac- 
 quainted with after he grew to be a man." 
 
 The story was as follows : — 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 [born 1706. DIED 1790.] 
 
 In the year 1716, or about that period, a boy used 
 to be seen in the streets of Boston who was known 
 among his schoolfellows and playmates by the name 
 of Ben Franklin. Ben was born in 1706 ; so that he 
 was now about ten years old. His father, who had 
 come over from England, was a soap-boiler and tallow- 
 chandler, and resided in MHk Street, not far from the 
 Old South Church. 
 
 Ben was a bright boy at his book, and even a 
 brighter one when at play with his comrades. He had 
 some remarkable qualities which always seemed to give 
 him the lead, whether at sport or in more serious mat- 
 ters. I might teU you a number of amusing anecdotes 
 
280 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 about him. You are acquainted, I suppose, with Ms 
 famous story of the Whistle, and how he bought it 
 with a whole pocketful of coppers and afterwards re- 
 pented of his bargain. But Ben had grown a great 
 boy since those days, and had gained wisdom by ex- 
 perience ; for it was one of his peculiarities, that no 
 incident ever happened to him without teaching him 
 some valuable lesson. Thus he generally profited 
 more by his misfortunes than many people do by tho 
 most favorable events that could befall them. 
 
 Ben's face was already pretty well known to the in- 
 habitants of Boston. The selectmen and other people 
 of note often used to visit his father, for the sake of 
 talking about the affairs of the town or province. Mr. 
 Franklin was considered a person of great wisdom and 
 integrity, and was respected by all who loiew him, al- 
 though he supported his family by the humble trade : 
 of boiling soap and making tallow candles. 
 
 While his father and the visitors were holding deep 
 consultations about public affairs, little Ben would sit 
 on his stool in a corner, listening with the greatest in- 
 terest, as if he imderstood every word. Indeed, his 
 features were so full of intelligence that there could 
 be but little doubt, not only that he understood what 
 was said, but that he could have expressed some very 
 sagacious opinions out of his own mind. But in those 
 days boys were expected to be silent in the presence of 
 their elders. However, Ben Franklin was looked upon 
 as a very promising lad, who would talk and act wisely 
 by and by. 
 
 "Neighbor Franklin," his father's friends woidd 
 sometimes say, " you ought to send this boy to college 
 and make a minister of him." 
 
 " I have often thought of it," his father would re- 
 
After a painting by Duplessis in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 281 
 
 ply; "and my brother Benjamin promises to givo 
 him a great many volmnes of manuscript sermons, in 
 case he should be educated for the church. But I 
 have a krge family to support, and cannot afford the 
 expense." 
 
 In fact, Mr. Franklin found it so difficult to provide 
 bread for his family, that, when the boy was ten years 
 old, it became necessary to take him from school. Ben 
 was then employed in cutting candle-wicks into equal 
 lengths and filling the moulds with tallow ; and many 
 families in Boston spent their evenings by the light 
 of the candles which he had helped to make. Thus, 
 you see, in his early days, as well as in liis manhood, 
 his labors contributed to throw light upon dark mat- 
 ters. 
 
 Busy as his life now was, Ben stiU found time to 
 keep company with his former schoolfellows. He and 
 the other boys were very fond of fishing, and spent 
 many of their leisure hours on the margin of the 
 mill-pond, catching flounders, perch, eels, and tomcod, 
 which came up thither with the tide. The place where 
 they fished is now, probably, covered with stone pave- 
 ments and brick buildings, and thronged with people 
 and with vehicles of aU kinds. But at that period it 
 was a marshy spot on the outskirts of the to\^Ti, where 
 guUs flitted and screamed overhead and salt-meadow 
 grass grew under foot. 
 
 On the edge of the water there was a deep bed of 
 clay, in which the boys were forced to stand while they 
 caught their fish. Here they dabbled in mud and mire 
 like a flock of ducks. 
 
 "This is very uncomfortable," said Ben Franklin 
 one day to his comrades, while they were standing mid- 
 Leg deep in the quagmire. 
 
282 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 " So it is," said the other boys. " What a pity we 
 have no better place to stand ! " 
 
 If it had not been for Ben, nothing more would 
 have been done or said about the matter. But it was 
 not in his nature to be sensible of an inconvenience 
 without using his best efforts to find a remedy. So, 
 as he and his comrades were returning from the water- 
 side, Ben suddenly threw down his string of fish with 
 a very determined air. 
 
 " Boys," cried he, " I have thought of a scheme 
 which will be greatly for our benefit and for the pub- 
 lic benefit." 
 
 It was queer enough, to be sure, to hear this little 
 chap — this rosy-cheeked, ten-year-old boy — talking 
 about schemes for the public benefit! Nevertheless, 
 his companions were ready to listen, being assured 
 that Ben's scheme, whatever it was, would be well 
 worth their attention. They remembered how saga- 
 ciously he had conducted aU their enterprises ever 
 since he had been old enough to wear small-clothes. 
 
 They remembered, too, his wonderful contrivance of 
 sailing across the mill-pond by lying flat on his back 
 in the water and allowing himself to be drawn along 
 by a paper kite. If Ben could do that, he might cer- 
 tainly do anything. 
 
 " What is your scheme, Ben ? — what is it ? " cried 
 they all. 
 
 It so happened that they had now come to a spot of 
 ground where a new house was to be built. Scattered 
 round about lay a great many large stones which were 
 to be used for the cellar and foundation. Ben mounted 
 upon the highest of these stones, so that he might speak 
 with the more authority. 
 
 " You know, lads," said he, " what a plague it is to 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 283 
 
 be forced to stand in the quagmire yonder, — over 
 shoes and stockings (if we wear any) in mud and 
 water. See ! 1 am bedaubed to the knees of my small- 
 clothes ; aiMl you are all in the same pickle. Unless 
 we can find some remedy for this evil, our fishing busi- 
 ness must be entirely given up. And, surely, this 
 would be a terrible misfortune ! " 
 
 " That it would ! that it would ! " said his comrades 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 " Now, I propose," continued Master Benjamin, 
 " that we build a wharf, for the purpose of carrying 
 on our fisheries You see these stones. The work- 
 men mean to use them for the underpinning of a 
 house ; but that would be for only one man's advan- 
 tage. My plan is to take these same stones and carry 
 them to the edge of the water and build a wharf with 
 them. This will not only enable us to carry on the 
 fishing business with comfort and to better advantage, 
 but it will likewise be a great convenience to boats 
 passing up and down the stream. Thus, instead of 
 one man, fifty, or a hundred, or a thousand, besides 
 ourselves, may be benefited by these stones. Y^hat 
 say you, lads ? Shall we build the wharf ? " 
 
 Ben's proposal was received with one of those up- 
 roarious shouts wherewith boys usually express their 
 delight at whatever completely suits their views. No- 
 body thought of questioning the right and justice of 
 building a wharf with stones that belonged to another 
 person. 
 
 " Hurrah ! hurrah ! " shouted they. " Let 's set 
 about it." 
 
 It vras agreed that they shoidd all be on the spot 
 that evening and commence their grand public enter- 
 prise by moonlight. Accordingly, at the appointed 
 
284 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 time, the whole gang of youthful laborers assembled, 
 fi.nd eagerly began to remove the stones. They had 
 not calculated how much toil would be requisite in 
 this important part of their undertaking. The very 
 first stone which they laid hold of proved so heavy that 
 it almost seemed to be fastened to the ground. Noth- 
 ing but Ben Franklin's cheerful and resolute spirit 
 could have induced them to persevere. 
 
 Ben, as might be expected, was the soul of the en- 
 terprise. By his mechanical genius, he contrived meth- 
 ods to lighten the labor of transporting the stones, so 
 that one boy, under his directions, would perform as 
 much as haK a dozen if left to themselves. Whenever 
 their spirits flagged he had some joke ready, which 
 seemed to renew their strength, by setting them all into 
 a roar of laughter. And when, after an hour or two 
 of hard work, the stones were transported to the water- 
 side, Ben Franklin was the engineer to superintend 
 the construction of the wharf. 
 
 The boys, like a colony of ants, performed a great 
 deal of labor by their multitude, though the individual 
 strength of each could have accomplished but little. 
 Finally, just as the moon sank below the horizon, the 
 great work was finished. 
 
 " Now, boys," cried Ben, " let 's give three cheers 
 and go home to bed. To-morrow we may catch fish at 
 our ease." 
 
 " Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! " shouted his comrades. 
 
 Then they all went home in such an ecstasy of de- 
 light that they could hardly get a wink of sleep. 
 
 The story was not yet finished ; but George's impa- 
 tience caused him to interrupt it. 
 
 " How I wish that I could have helped to build that 
 wharf ! " exclaimed he. " It must have been glorious 
 fun. Ben Franklin forever, say I." 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 285 
 
 "It was a very pretty piece of work," said Mr. 
 Temple. " But wait till you liear the end of the 
 story." 
 
 " Father," inquired Edward, " whereabouts in Bos- 
 ton was the miU-pond on which Ben built his wharf ? *' 
 
 "I do not exactly know," answered Mr. Temple; 
 " but I suppose it to have been on the northern verge 
 of the town, in the vicinity of what are now called 
 Merrimack and Charlestown Streets. That thronged 
 portion of the city was once a marsh. Some of it, in 
 fact, was covered with water." 
 
CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 As the children had no more questions to ask, Mr. 
 Temple proceeded to relate what consequences ensued 
 from the building of Ben Franklin's wharf. 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 
 [continued.] 
 
 In the morning, when the early sunbeams were 
 gleaming on the steeples and roofs of the town and 
 gilding the water that surrounded it, the masons came, 
 rubbing their eyes, to begin their work at the founda- 
 tion of the new house. But, on reaching the spot, 
 they rubbed their eyes so much the harder. What 
 had become of their heap of stones ? 
 
 " Why, Sam," said one to another, in great per- 
 plexity, " here 's been some witchcraft at work while 
 we were asleep. The stones must have flown away 
 through the air ! " 
 
 " More likely they have been stolen ! " answered Sam. 
 
 " But who on earth would think of stealing a heap 
 of stones ? " cried a third. " Could a man carry them 
 away in his pocket ? " 
 
 The master mason, who was a graS. kind of man, 
 stood scratching his head, and said nothing at first. 
 But, looking carefully on the ground, he discerned in- 
 numerable tracks of little feet, some with shoes and 
 some barefoot. Following these tracks with his eye, 
 he saw that they formed a beaten path towards the 
 water-side. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 287 
 
 " Ah, I see what the mischief is," said he, noddino- 
 his head. " Those little rascals, the boys, — they have 
 stolen our stones to build a wharf with ! " 
 
 The masons immediately went to examine the new 
 structure. And, to say the truth, it was well worth 
 looking at, so neatly and with such admirable skill had 
 it been planned and finished. These stones were put 
 together so securely that there was no danger of their 
 being loosened by the tide, however swiftly it might 
 sweep along. There was a broad and safe platform to 
 stand upon, whence the little fishermen might cast 
 their lines into deep water and draw up fish in abun- 
 dance. Indeed, it almost seemed as if Ben and his 
 comrades might be forgiven for taking the stones, be- 
 cause they had done their job in such a workmanlike 
 manner. 
 
 " The chaps that built this wharf understood their 
 business pretty well," said one of the masons. '' I 
 should not be ashamed of such a piece of work my- 
 self." 
 
 But tlie master mason did not seem to enjoy the 
 joke. He was one of those unreasonable people who 
 care a great deal more for their own rights and privi- 
 leges than for the convenience of all the rest of the 
 world. 
 
 " Sam," said he, more gruffly than usual, " go call 
 a constable." 
 
 So Sam called a constable, and inquiries were sot on 
 foot to discover the perpetrators of the theft. In the 
 course of the day warrants were issued, with the signa- 
 ture of a justice of the peace, to take the bodies of 
 Benjamin Franklin, and other evil -disposed persons, 
 who had stolen a heap of stones. If the owner of the 
 stolen property had not been more merciful than the 
 
288 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 master mason, it might have gone hard with our friend 
 Benjamin and his fellow-laborers. But, luckily for 
 them, the gentleman had a respect for Ben's father, 
 and, moreover, was amused with the spirit of the whole 
 affair. He therefore let the culprits off pretty easily. 
 
 But, when the constables were dismissed, the poor 
 boys had to go through another trial, and receive sen- 
 tence, and suffer execution, too, from their own fa- 
 thers. Many a rod, I grieve to say, was worn to the 
 stump on that unlucky night. 
 
 As for Ben, he was less afraid of a whipping than 
 of his father's disapprobation. Mr. Franklin, as I 
 have mentioned before, was a sagacious man, and also 
 an inflexibly upright one. He had read much for a 
 person in his rank of life, and had pondered upon the 
 ways of the world, until he had gained more wisdom 
 than a whole library of books could have taught him. 
 Ben had a greater reverence for his father than for 
 any other person in the world, as well on account of 
 his spotless integrity as of his practical sense and deep 
 views of things. 
 
 Consequently, after being released from the clutches 
 of the law, Ben came into his father's presence with 
 no small perturbation of mind. 
 
 "Benjamin, come hither," began Mr. Franklin, in 
 his customary solemn and weighty tone. 
 
 The boy approached and stood before his father's 
 chair, waiting reverently to hear what judgment this 
 good man would pass upon his late offence. He felt 
 that now the right and wrong of the whole matter 
 would be made to appear. 
 
 " Benjamin ! " said his father, " what could induce 
 you to take property which did not belong to you ? " 
 
 "Why, father," replied Ben, hanging his head at 
 
 1 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 289 
 
 first, but then lifting his eyes to Mr. Franklin's face, 
 " if it had been merely for my ov>^n benefit, I never 
 should have dreamed of it. But I knew that the 
 wharf would be a public convenience. If the owner 
 of the stones should build a house with them, nobody 
 will enjoy any advantage except hunself . Now, I made 
 use of them in a way that was for the advantage of 
 many persons. I thought it right to aim at doing 
 good to the greatest number." 
 
 " My son," said Mr. Franklin, solemnly, " so far as 
 it was in your power, you have done a greater harm to 
 the public than to the owner of the stones." 
 
 " How can that be, father ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Because," answered his father, " in building your 
 wharf with stolen materials, you have committed a 
 moral wrong. There is no more terrible mistake than 
 to violate what is eternally right for the sake of a 
 seeming expediency. Those who act upon such a prin 
 ciple do the utmost in their power to destroy all that is 
 good in the world." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " said Benjamin. 
 
 "No act," continued Mr. Franklin, "can possibly 
 be for the benefit of the public generally which in- 
 volves injustice to any individual. It would be easy 
 to prove this by examples. But, indeed, can we sup- 
 pose that our all-wise and just Creator woidd have so 
 ordered the affairs of the world that a wrong act 
 should be the true method of attaining a right end ? 
 It is impious to think so. And I do verily beheve, 
 Benjamin, that almost all the public and private mis- 
 ery of mankind arises from a neglect of tliis great 
 truth, — that evil can produce only evil, — that good 
 ends must be wrought out by good means." 
 
 " I will never forget it again," said Benjamin, bow- 
 ing liis head. 
 
290 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES, 
 
 "Remember," concluded his father, "that, when 
 ever we vary from the highest rule of right, just so 
 far we do an injury to the world. It may seem other- 
 wise for the moment ; but, both in time and in ete& 
 nity, it will be found so." 
 
 To the close of his life Ben Franklin never forgot 
 this conversation with his father ; and we have reason 
 to suppose that, in most of his public and private 
 career, he endeavored to act upon the principles which 
 that good and wise man had then taught him. 
 
 After the great event of building the wharf, Ben 
 continued to cut wick-yarn and fill candle-moulds for 
 about two years. But, as he had no love for that oc- 
 cupation, his father often took him to see various arti- 
 sans at their work, in order to discover what trade he 
 would prefer. Thus Ben learned the use of a great 
 many tools, the knowledge of which afterwards proved 
 very useful to him. But he seemed much inclined to 
 go to sea. In order to keep him at home, and like- 
 wise to gratify his taste for letters, the lad was bound 
 apprentice to his elder brother, who had lately set up 
 a printing-office in Boston. 
 
 Here he had many opportimities of reading new 
 books and of hearing instructive conversation. He 
 exercised himself so successfully in writing composi- 
 tions, that, when no more than thirteen or fourteen 
 years old, he became a contributor to his brother's 
 newspaper. Ben was also a versifier, if not a poet. 
 He made two doleful ballads, — one about the ship- 
 wreck of Captain Worthilake ; and the other about 
 the pirate Black Beard, vv'ho, not long before, infested 
 the American seas. 
 
 When Ben's verses were printed, his brother sent 
 him to sell them to the towns-people wet from the 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 291 
 
 press. " Buy my ballads ! " shouted Benjamin, as he 
 fcrudged through the streets with a basketful on his 
 arm. " Who '11 buy a ballad about Black Beard ? A 
 penny apiece ! a penny apiece I Who '11 buy my bal- 
 lads?" 
 
 If one of those roughly composed and rudely printed 
 ballads could be discovered now, it would be worth 
 more than its weight in gold. 
 
 In this way our friend Benjamin spent his boyhood 
 and youth, until, on account of some disagreement 
 with his brother, he left his native town and went to 
 Philadelphia. He landed in the latter city, a home- 
 less and hungry young man, and bought threepence 
 worth of bread to satisfy his appetite. Not kno\v'ing 
 where else to go, he entered a Quaker meeting-house, 
 sat down, and fell fast asleep. lie has not told us 
 whether his slumbers were visited by any dreams. But 
 it would have been a strange dream, indeed, and an 
 incredible one, that should have foretold how great a 
 man he was destined to become, and how much he 
 woidd be honored in that very city where he was now 
 friendless and unknown. 
 
 So here we finish our story of the childhood of Ben* 
 jamin Franklin. One of these days, if you would 
 know what he was in his manhood, you must read his 
 own works and the history of American independence. 
 
 " Do let us hear a little more of him I " said Ed- 
 ward ; " not that I admire him so much as many other 
 characters; but he interests me, because he was a 
 Yankee boy." 
 
 "My dear son," replied Mr. Temple, "it would re- 
 quire a whole volume of talk to tell you all that is 
 worth knowing about Benjamin Franldin. Tlierc is a 
 very pretty anecdote of his flying a kite in the midst 
 
292 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES, 
 
 of a thunder-storm, and tlius drawing down the light- 
 ning from the clouds and proving that it was the same 
 thing as electricity. His whole life would be an in- 
 teresting story, if we had time to tell it." 
 
 " But, pray, dear father, tell us what made him so 
 famous," said George. " I have seen his portrait a 
 great many times. There is a wooden bust of him in 
 one of our streets; and marble ones, I suppose, in 
 some other places. And towns, and ships of war, and 
 steamboats, and banks, and academies, and children, 
 are often named after Franklin. Why should he have 
 grown so very famous ? " 
 
 "Your question is a reasonable one, George," an- 
 swered his father. " I doubt whether Franklin's philo- 
 sophical discoveries, important as they were, or even 
 his vast political services, would have given him all 
 the fame which he acquired. It appears to me that 
 " Poor Richard's Almanac " did more than anything 
 else towards making him familiarly known to the pub- 
 lic. As the writer of those proverbs which Poor Rich- 
 ard was supposed to utter, Franklin became the coun- 
 sellor and household friend of ahiiost every family in 
 America. Thus it was the humblest of all his labors 
 that has done the most for his fame." 
 
 "I have read some of those proverbs," remarked 
 Edward ; " but I do not like them. They are all 
 about getting money or saving it." 
 
 " Well," said his father, " they were suited to the 
 condition of the country ; and their effect, upon the 
 whole, has doubtless been good, although they teach 
 men but a very small portion of their duties.'* 
 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Hitherto Mr. Temple's narratives had all been 
 about boys and men. But, the next evening, he be- 
 thought himself that the quiet little Emily would per- 
 haps be glad to hear the story of a child of her own 
 sex. He therefore resolved to narrate the youthful 
 adventures of Christina, of Sweden, who began to be 
 a queen at the age of no more than six years. If we 
 have any little girls among our readers, they must not 
 suppose that Christina is set before them as a pattern 
 of what they ought to be. On the contrary, the tale 
 of her life is chiefly profitable as showing the evil ef- 
 fects of a wrong education, which caused this daughter 
 of a king to be both useless and unhappy. Here fol- 
 lows the story. 
 
 QUEEN CHRISTmA. 
 
 [born 1626. DIED 1689.] 
 
 In the royal palace at Stockholm, the capital city of 
 Sweden, there was born, in 1626, a little princess. 
 The king, her father, gave her the name of Christina, 
 in memory of a Swedish girl with whom he had been 
 in love. His own name was Gustavus Adolphus ; and 
 he was also called the Lion of the North, because he 
 had gained greater fame in war than any other prince 
 or general then alive. With this valiant king for 
 their commander, the Swedes had made themselves 
 terrible to the Emperor of Germany and to the King 
 of France, and were looked upon as the chief defence 
 of the Protestant religion. 
 
294 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 The little Christina was by no means a beautiful 
 child. To confess the truth, she was remarkably 
 plain. The queen, her mother, did not love her so 
 much as she ought; partly, perhaps, on account of 
 Christina's want of beauty, and also because both the 
 king and queen had wished for a son, who might have 
 gained as great renown in battle as his father had. 
 
 The king, however, soon became exceedingly fond of 
 the infant princess. When Christina was very young 
 she was taken violently sick. Gustavus Adolphus, 
 who was several hundred miles from Stockholm, trav- 
 elled night and day, and never rested until he held the 
 poor child in his arms. On her recovery he made a 
 solemn festival, in order to show his joy to the people 
 of Sweden and express his gratitude to Heaven. Af* 
 ter this event he took his daughter with him in all the 
 journeys which he made throughout his kingdom. 
 
 Christina soon proved herself a bold and sturdy lit- 
 tle girl. When she was two years old, the king and 
 herseK, in the course of a journey, came to the strong 
 fortress of Colmar. On the battlements were soldiers 
 clad in steel armor, which glittered in the sunshine. 
 There were likewise great cannons, pointing their 
 black mouths at Gustavus and little Christina, and 
 ready to belch out their smoke and thunder ; for, when- 
 ever a king enters a fortress, it is customary to receive 
 him with a royal salute of artillery. 
 
 But the captain of the fortress met Gustavus and 
 his daughter as they were about to enter the gateway. 
 
 " May it please your Majesty," said he, taking off 
 his steel cap and bowing profoundly, " I fear that, if 
 we receive you with a salute of cannon, the little prin- 
 cess will be frightened almost to death." 
 
 Gustavus looked earnestly at his daughter, and was 
 
QUEEN CHRISTINA. 295 
 
 indeed apprehensive that the thunder of so many can- 
 non might perhaps throw her into convulsions. Ho 
 had ahnost a mind to tell the captain to let them en- 
 ter the fortress quietly, as common people might have 
 done, without all this head-splitting racket. But no ; 
 this would not do. 
 
 '' Let them fire," said he, waving his hand. " Chris- 
 tina is a soldier's daughter, and must learn to bear the 
 noise of cannon." 
 
 So the captain uttered the word of command, and 
 immediately there was a terrible peal of thunder from 
 the cannon, and such a gush of smoke that it envel- 
 oped the whole fortress in its volumes. But, amid all 
 the din and confusion, Christina was seen clapping her 
 little hands, and laughing in an ecstasy of delight. 
 Probably nothing ever pleased her father so much as 
 to see that his daughter promised to be fearless as 
 himself. He determined to educate her exactly as if 
 she had been a boy, and to teach her all the knowl- 
 edge needful to the ruler of a kingdom and the com- 
 mander of an army. 
 
 But Gustavus should have remembered that Provi- 
 dence had created her to be a woman, and that it was 
 not for him to make a man of her. 
 
 However, the king derived great happiness from his 
 beloved Christina. It must have been a pleasant sight 
 to see the powerful monarch of Sweden playing in 
 some magnificent hall of the palace with his merry 
 little girl. Then he forgot that the weight of a king- 
 dom rested upon his shoulders. He forgot that the 
 wise Chancellor Oxenstiern was waiting to consult 
 with him how to render Sweden the greatest nation of 
 Europe. He forgot that the Emperor of Germany 
 and the King of France were plotting together how 
 they might pull him down from liis throne. 
 
296 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 Yes ; Gustavus forgot all the perils, and cares, and 
 pompous irksomeness of a royal life ; and was as 
 happy, while playing with his child, as the humblest 
 peasant in the realm of Sweden. How gayly did they 
 dance along the marble floor of the palace, this valiant 
 king, with his upright, martial figure, his war-worn 
 visage, and commanding aspect, and the small, round 
 form of Christina, with her rosy face of childish mer- 
 riment ! Her little fingers were clasped in her father's 
 hand, which had held the leading staff in many famous 
 victories. His crown and sceptre were her playthings. 
 She could disarm Gustavus of his sword, which was so 
 terrible to the princes of Europe. 
 
 But, alas ! the king was not long permitted to en- 
 joy Christina's society. When she was four years old 
 Gustavus was summoned to take command of the al- 
 lied armies of Germany, which were fighting against 
 the emperor. His greatest affliction was the necessity 
 of parting with his child; but people in such high 
 stations have but little opportunity for domestic happi- 
 ness. He called an assembly of the senators of Sweden 
 and confided Christina to their care, saying, that each 
 one of them must be a father to her if he himself 
 should fall in battle. 
 
 At the moment of his departure Christina ran to- 
 wards him and began to address him with a speech 
 which somebody had taught her for the occasion. 
 Gustavus was busied with thoughts about the affairs 
 of the kingdom, so that he did not immediately attend 
 to the childish voice of his little girl. Christina, who 
 did not love to be unnoticed, immediately stopped 
 short and pulled him by the coat. 
 
 " Father," said she, *' why do not you listen to my 
 speech ? " 
 
QUEEN CHRISTINA. 297 
 
 In a moment the king forgot everything except that 
 he was i3arting with what he loved best in all the 
 world. Ho caught the child in his arms, pressed her 
 to his bosom, and burst into tears. Yes ; though ho 
 was a brave man, and though he wore a steel corselet 
 on his breast, and though armies were waiting for him 
 to lead them to battle, still his heart melted within 
 him, and he wept. Christina, too, was so afflicted 
 that her attendants began to fear that she would ac- 
 tually die of grief. But probably she was soon com- 
 forted; for children seldom remember their parents 
 quite so faithfully as their parents remember them. 
 
 For two years more Christina remained in the palaco 
 at Stockholm. The queen, her mother, had accompa. 
 nied Gustavus to the wars. The child, therefore, was 
 left to the guardianship of five of the wisest men in 
 the kingdom. But these wise men knew better how 
 to manage the affairs of state than how to govern and 
 educate a little girl so as to render her a good and 
 happy woman. 
 
 When two years had passed away, tidings were 
 brought to Stockliolm which filled everybody with 
 triumph and sorrow at the same time. The Swedes 
 had won a glorious victory at Lutzen. But, alas I the 
 warlike King of Sweden, tlie Lion of the North, the 
 father of our little Christina, had been slain at the 
 foot of a great stone, which still marks the spot of 
 that hero's death. 
 
 Soon after this sad event, a general assembly, or 
 congress, consisting of deputations from the nobles, 
 the clergy, the burghers, and the peasants of Sweden, 
 was summoned to meet at Stockliolm. It was for the 
 purpose of declaring little Christina to be Queen of 
 Sweden, and giving her the crown and sceptre of her 
 
298 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 deceased father. Silence being proclaimed, the Chan« 
 cellor Oxenstiern arose. 
 
 "We desire to know," said he, "whether the people 
 of Sweden will take the daughter of our dead king, 
 Gustavus Adolphus, to be their queen." 
 
 When the chancellor had spoken, an old man, with 
 white hair and in coarse apparel, stood up in the midst 
 of the assembly. He was a peasant, Lars Larrson by 
 name, and had spent most of his life in laboring on a 
 farm. 
 
 " Who is this daughter of Gustavus ? " asked the 
 old man. " We do not know her. Let her be shown 
 to us." 
 
 Then Christina was brought into the hall and placed 
 before the old peasant. It was strange, no doubt, to 
 see a child — a little girl of six years old — offered to 
 the Swedes as their ruler instead of the brave king, 
 her father, who had led them to victory so many times. 
 Could her baby fingers wield a sword in war ? Could 
 her childish mind govern the nation wisely in peace? 
 
 But the Swedes do not appear to have asked them- 
 selves these questions. Old Lars Larrson took Chris- 
 tina up in his arms and gazed earnestly into her face. 
 He had known the great Gustavus well ; and his heart 
 was touched when he saw the likeness which the little 
 girl bore to that heroic monarch. 
 
 " Yes," cried he, with the tears gushing down his 
 furrowed cheeks ; " this is truly the daughter of our 
 Gustavus ! Here is her father's brow ! — here is his 
 piercing eye ! She is his very picture ! This child 
 shall be our queen ! " 
 
 Then all the proud nobles of Sweden, and the rever- 
 end clergy, and the burghers, and the peasants, knelt 
 down at the child's feet and kissed her hand. 
 
QUEEN CHRISTINA. 299 
 
 « Long live Christina, Queen of Sweden ! " shouted 
 they. 
 
 Even after she was a woman grown Christina re- 
 membered the pleasure which she felt in, seeing all 
 these men at her feet and hearing them acknowledge 
 her as their supreme rider. Poor child ! she was yet 
 to learn that power does not insure happiness. As 
 yet, however, she had not any real power. All the 
 public business, it is true, was transacted in her name ; 
 but the kingdom was governed by a number of the 
 most experienced statesmen, who were called a re- 
 gency. 
 
 But it was considered necessary that the little queen 
 should be present at the public ceremonies, and should 
 behave just as if she were in reality the ruler of the 
 nation. When she was seven years of age, some am- 
 bassadors from the Czar of Muscovy came to the 
 Swedish court. They wore long beards, and were 
 clad in a strange fashion, with f ui's and other outland- 
 ish ornaments ; and as they were inhabitants of a half- 
 civilized country, they did not behave like other peo- 
 ple. The Chancellor Oxenstiern was afraid that the 
 young queen would burst out a laughing at the first 
 sight of these queer ambassadors, or else that she 
 woiild be frightened by their unusual aspect. 
 
 "Why should 1 be frightened?" said the little 
 queen. " And do you suppose that I have no better 
 manners than to laugh ? Only teU me how I must be- 
 have, and I will do it." 
 
 Accordingly, the Muscovite ambassadors were in- 
 troduced ; and Christina received them and answered 
 their speeches with as much dignity and propriety as 
 if she had been a grown woman. 
 
 All this time, though Christina was now a queen, 
 
300 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 you must not suppose that she was left to act as she 
 pleased. She had a preceptor, named John Mathias, 
 who was a very learned man and capable of instruct- 
 ins" her in all the branches of science. But there was 
 nobody to teach her the delicate graces and gentle vir« 
 tues of a woman. She was surrounded almost entirely 
 by men, and had learned to despise the society of her 
 own sex. At the age of nine years she was separated 
 from her mother, whom the Swedes did not consider 
 a proper person to be intrusted with the charge of her. 
 No little girl who sits by a New England fireside has 
 cause to envy Christina in the royal palace at Stock- 
 holm. 
 
 Yet she made great progress in her studies. She 
 learned to read the classical authors of Greece and 
 Rome, and became a great admirer of the heroes and 
 poets of old times. Then, as for active exercises, she 
 could ride on horseback as well as any man in her 
 kingdom. She was fond of hunting, and could shoot 
 at a mark with wonderful skill. But dancing was the 
 only feminine accomplishment with which she had any 
 acquaintance. 
 
 She was so restless in her disposition that none of 
 her attendants were sure of a moment's quiet neither 
 day nor night. She grew up, I am sorry to say, a 
 very unamiable person, ill-tempered, proud, stubborn, 
 and, in short, unfit to make those around her happy, 
 or to be happy herself. Let every little girl, who has 
 been taught self-control and a due regard for the 
 rights of others, thank Heaven that she has had bet- 
 ter instruction than this poor little Queen of Sweden. 
 
 At the ag-e of eisfhteen Christina was declared free 
 to govern the kingdom by herseK without the ,aid of a 
 regency. At this period of her life she was a young 
 
QUEEN CHRISTINA. 301 
 
 woman of striking aspect, a good figure, and intelli- 
 gent face, but very strangely dressed. SI13 wore a 
 short habit of gray cloth, with a man's vest over it, 
 and a black scarf around her neck ; but no jewels nor 
 ornaments of any kind. 
 
 Yet, though Christina was so negUgent of her ap- 
 pearance, there was something in her air and manner 
 that proclaimed her as the ruler of a kingdom. Her 
 eyes, it is said, had a very fierce and haughty look. 
 Old General Wrangel, who had often caused the ene- 
 mies of Sweden to tremble in battle, actually trembled 
 himself when he encountered the eyes of the queen. 
 But it would have been better for Christina if she 
 could have made people love her, by means of soft 
 and gentle looks, instead of affrighting them by such 
 terrible glances. 
 
 And now I have told you almost all that is amusing 
 or instructive in the childhood of Christina. Only a 
 few more words need be said about her ; for it is 
 neither pleasant nor profitable to think of many things 
 that she did after she grew to be a woman. 
 
 When she had worn the cro\vn a few years, she be- 
 gan to consider it beneath her dignity to be called a 
 queen, because the name implied that she belonged to 
 the weaker sex. She therefore caused herseH to be 
 proclaimed KING ; thus declaring to the world that she 
 despised her own sex and was desirous of being ranked 
 among men. But in the twenty-eighth year of her 
 age Christina grew tired of royalty, and resolved to 
 be neither a king nor a queen any longer. She took 
 the crown from her head with her own hands, and 
 ceased to be the ruler of Sweden. The people did not 
 greatly regret her abdication; for she had governed 
 them ill, and had taken much of their property to 
 supply her extravagance. 
 
302 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 Having tlius given up her hereditary crown, Chris- 
 tina left Sweden and travelled over many of the coun- 
 tries of Europe. Everywhere she was received with 
 great ceremony, because she was the daughter of the 
 renowned Gustavus, and had herself been a powerful 
 queen. Perhaps you would like to know something 
 about her personal appearance in the latter part of her 
 life. She is described as wearing a man's vest, a short 
 gray petticoat, embroidered with gold and silver, and 
 a black wig, which was thrust awry upon her head. 
 She wore no gloves, and so seldom v/ashed her hands 
 that nobody could tell what had been their original 
 color. In this strange dress, and, I suppose, without 
 washing her hands or face, she visited the magnificent 
 court of Louis XIV. 
 
 She died in 1689. None loved her while she lived, 
 nor regretted her death, nor planted a single flower 
 upon her grave. Happy are the little girls of Amer- 
 ica, who are brought up quietly and tenderly at the 
 domestic hearth, and thus become gentle and delicate 
 women I May none of them ever lose the loveliness of 
 their sex by receiving such an education as that of 
 Queen Christina ! 
 
 Emily, timid, quiet, and sensitive, was the very re- 
 verse of little Christina. She seemed shocked at the 
 idea of such a bold masculine character as has been 
 described in the foregoing story. 
 
 " I never could have loved her," whispered she to 
 Mrs. Temple ; and then she added, with that love of 
 personal neatness which generally accompanies purity 
 of heart, " It troubles me to think of her unclean 
 hands ! " 
 
 '' Christina was a sad specimen of womankind in • 
 
QUEEN CHRISTINA. 303 
 
 deed," said Mrs. Temple. " But it is very possible 
 for a woman to have a strong mind, and to be fitted 
 for the active business of life, without losing any of 
 her natural delicacy. Perhaps some time or other Mr. 
 Temple will tell you a story of such a woman." 
 
 It was now time for Edward to be left to repose. 
 His brother George shook him heartily by the hand, 
 and hoped, as he had hoped twenty times before, that 
 to-morrow or the next day Ned's eyes would be strong 
 enough to look the sun right in the face. 
 
 "Thank you, George," replied Edward, smiling; 
 " but I am not half so impatient as at first. If my 
 bodily eyesight were as good as yours, perhaps I could 
 not see things so distinctly with my mind's eye. But 
 now there is a light within which shows me the little 
 Quaker artist, Ben West, and Isaac Newton with his 
 windmill, and stubborn Sam Jolmson, and stout Noll 
 CromweU, and shrewd Ben Franklin, and little Queen 
 Christina, with the Swedes kneeling at her feet. It 
 seems as if I really saw these personages face to face. 
 So I can bear the darkness outside of me pretty well." 
 
 When Edward ceased speaking, Emily put up her 
 mouth and kissed him as her farewell for the night. 
 
 " Ah, I forgot ! " said Edward, with a sigh. " I 
 cannot see any of your faces. What would it signify 
 to see aU the famous people in the world, if I must be 
 blind to the faces that I love ? " 
 
 " You must try to see us with your heart, my dear 
 child," said his mother. 
 
 Edward went to bed somewhat dispirited ; but, 
 quickly falling asleep, was visited with such a pleas- 
 ant dream of the sunshine and of his dearest friends 
 that he felt the happier for it all the next day. And 
 we hope to find him still happy when we meet again. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abercrombie, Gen. James, 132. 
 Acadia, 27, G2, 89, 90; reraoval of the 
 
 iiihabltaiits of, 121-128, 142-147 ; 1&4. 
 Adams, John, 185. 
 Adams, Samuel, 182, 183, 214, 215. 
 Albemarle, Duke of, 58, 01. 
 Amherst, Sir Jeffrey, 132, 133. 
 Andros. Sir Edmund, 50, 51. 
 Anville, Duke d', 116. 
 Arbella, Lady. See Johnson, Lady Ar- 
 
 beUa. 
 Army , the American, in the Revolution, 
 
 195-199. 
 Auchmuty, Robert, 187. 
 
 Barrel, Col. Isaac, 186. 
 Belcher, Jonathan, 107, 108. 
 Bellingham, Richard, 26, 53, 64. 
 Bernard, Sir Frances, 137, 138, 159, 171, 
 
 172. 
 Boston, 12, 13, 134, 169, 191 ; the siege 
 
 and evacuation of, 198-201, 208. 
 Boston Massacre, the, 174-181. 
 Boston Tea Party, the, 189-191. 
 Bouladrie, Monsieur, 114. 
 Bowdoin, James, 214. 
 Boylston, Dr. Zabdiel, 97-99. 
 Braddock's Defeat, 121. 
 Bradstreet, Simon, 51-53, 65. 
 Brattle Street Church, 201. 
 British Coffee House, the, 168, 171, 189, 
 
 192. 
 Bunker Hill, Battle of, 194. 
 Bunker Hill Monument, 15 and note. 
 Burgoyne, Gen. John, 212. 
 Burke, Edmund, 186. 
 Burnet, William, 101-103. 
 Burroughs, Rev. George, 76. 
 Bute, Earl of, 157, 186. 
 Byles, Rev. Mather, 187. 
 
 Cambridge, Mass., 195, ig'?. 
 
 Camera-obscura, the, 241. 
 
 Canada, 89-91, 133, 134, 211. 
 
 Cape Breton, 134. 
 
 Charles I., King of England, 28, 270-277. 
 
 Charles II., King of England, 36, 37, 49. 
 
 Charlestown 9. 
 
 Chatham, Earl of, 186. 
 
 Cheever, Ezekiel, 80-86. 
 
 Christina, Queen of Sweden, 293-302. 
 
 Church, Capt. Benjamin, 47. 
 
 Colonization, 21, 22. 
 
 Couant, Roger, (!. 
 
 Concord Fight, 193. 
 
 Congress, the Continental, 192, 195. 
 
 Congress, the Provincial, 192. 
 
 Connecticut, 22. 
 
 Continental Congress, the, 192, 195. 
 
 Cooke, Elisha, 101. 
 
 Cornhill, 204. 
 
 Cornwallis, Lord, 213. 
 
 Cotton, Rev. John, 20. 
 
 Cromwell, Oliver, 28, 49, 268-277. 
 
 Cromwell, Sir Oliver, 268-274. 
 
 Dana, Richard, 166. 
 Davenport, Rev. John, 22. 
 Declaration of Independence, 211. 
 Democracy, 26. 
 Dieskau, Baron, 131. 
 Dudley, Joseph, 50, 51, 93. 
 Dudley, Tliomas, 20, 53, 04. 
 Dummer, Wilham, 94. 
 Dunster, Henry, 25. 
 Dyer, Mary, 36, 64. 
 
 Eliot, Rev. John, 37, 39-47, 65-70. 
 Endicott, John, 6, 9, 11, 26, 27, 52, &4. 
 English, Philip, 77. 
 Estaing, Count d', 212. 
 Everett, Edward, 208. 
 
 Faneui! Hall, 169, 203. 
 Fort Oswego, 132. 
 Fort WiUiam Henry, 132. 
 Fox, Charles James, 186. 
 Fox, George, 35. 
 
 Franklin, Benjamin, IW, 212, 279-292. 
 French, wars with the, 89-91, 109-117, 
 119-134. 
 
 Gage, Gen. Thomas, 191-195. 
 Gates, Gen. Horatio, 199, 212. 
 George I.. King of Eucland, 91, 92. 
 George III., King of England, 135, 152, 
 
 153, 178, ISS. 191, 203, 213. 
 Governors OF Massachusetts mentioned 
 in this book. (In chronological or- 
 der.) 
 
 John Winthrop, 8, 20, 26. 52, 64. 
 
 Thomas Dudley, 26, 53, frl. 
 
306 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 John Haynes, 53. 
 
 Sir Heury Vaiie, 20, 21 and note, 52, 64. 
 
 Richard Bellmgliam, 26, 53, 64. 
 
 John Endicott, 6, 9, 11, 26, 27, 52, 64. 
 
 Sir John Leverett, 53. 
 
 Simon Bradstreet, 51-53, 65. 
 
 Joseph Dudley, 50, 51, 93. 
 
 Sir Edmund Andros, 50, 51. 
 
 Sir William Phips, 53-63, 65, 74, 75, 
 
 77-80. 
 Samuel Shute, 93, 94. 
 "William Dumnier, 94. 
 William Burnet, 101-103. 
 Jonathan Belcher, 107, 108. 
 William Shirley, 108-117, 120, 127, 
 
 130-132. 
 Thomas Pownall, 130. 
 Sir Francis Bernard, 137, 138, 159, 171, 
 
 Thomas Hutchinson, 138-141, 158-165, 
 172, 179, 187, 190, 191, 206, 223-226. 
 
 Gen. Thomas Gage, 191-195. 
 
 Sir William Howe, 200, 201, 205. 
 
 John Hancock, 171, 183-185, 212, 213". 
 
 James Bowdoin, 214. 
 
 Samuel Adams, 182, 183, 214, 215. 
 
 Edward Everett, 208. 
 Greene, Gen. Nathanael, 185, 199, 213. 
 Grenville, George, 186. 
 Griffin's Wharf, 190. 
 Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, 
 
 293-297. 
 
 Hale, Mrs. John, 77. 
 
 Hancock, John, 171, 183-185, 212, 213. 
 
 Hartford, 22. 
 
 Harvard College, 25. 
 
 Hawthorne, William, 25. 
 
 Haynes, John, 53. 
 
 Higginson, Rev. Francis, 11, 
 
 Hooker, Rev. Thomas, 22. 
 
 Howe, Sir William, 200, 201, 205. 
 
 Hull, Hannah (Hawthorne calls her Bet- 
 sey), 31-34. 
 
 Hull, Capt. John, 29-33, 64. 
 
 Hutchinson, Mrs. Anne, 19-21, 64. 
 
 Hutchinson, Thomas, 138-141, 158-105, 
 172, 179, 187, 190, 191, 206; his ac- 
 count of the mob which entered his 
 house, 223-226. 
 
 Indians, 10, 27, 30, 37-47, 66-70, 89, 131. 
 
 James I., King of England, 268-275. 
 James II., King of England, 50, 51, 57, 
 
 .58, 01. 
 Johnson, Lady Arbella, 7, 9-12, 24, 64. 
 Johnson, Isaac, 7, 12, 13. 
 Johnson, Michael, 256-261. 
 Johnson, Samuel, 256-266. 
 J«hnson, Gen. William, 131. 
 
 King Philip's War, 46, 47. 
 King's Ghapel Burial-Ground, 13. 
 King Street, 172. 
 Knowles, Commodore, 116. 
 Knox, Heury, 176, 185, 213. 
 
 Lafayette, 212. 
 
 Lake George, Battle of, 131. 
 
 Lee, Gen. Charles, 199. 
 
 Leslie, Colonel, 193. 
 
 Leverett, Sir John, 53. 
 
 Lexington, Battle of, 193. 
 
 Liberty Tree, 156, 157, 165-167, 207. 
 
 Lincoln, Gen. Benj.imin, 185, 213, 214. 
 
 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 208. 
 
 Loudon, Earl of, 132, 138. 
 
 Louisburg, the expedition against, 109- 
 
 115 ; restored to the French, 119. 
 Lyman, Gen. Phiueas, 131. 
 
 Maine, 22, 74. 
 
 Maison Forte, Marquis de la, 114. 
 
 Massachusetts, 74, 211. 212. 
 
 Mather, Rev. Cotton, 76, 86-101. 
 
 Mather, Samuel, 96, 99. 
 
 Mathias, John, 300. 
 
 Minute-men, 192. 
 
 Money of New England, 29-34, 108-110. 
 
 Montcalm, Marquis de, 132, 133. 
 
 Montgomery, Gen. Richard, 211. 
 
 Murray, Captain, 142. 
 
 New England, the United Colonies of, 27. 
 
 New Hampshire, 22. 
 
 New Haven, 22. 
 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, 247-254. 
 
 Nonantum, 67. 
 
 Normandy, Marquis of, 79. 
 
 North, Lord, 186. 
 
 Nova Scotia, 27, 74. 
 
 Old North Church, 200, 204. 
 Old South Church, 204, 215. 
 Old State House, the (the Town House), 
 
 170, 203. 
 Oliver, Andrew, 157, 159, 165, 166, 206. 
 Oliver, Peter, 187, 202-207. 
 Otis, James, 184. 
 Oxenstiern, Count Axel, 295, 298, 299. 
 
 Palfrey, Peter, 6. 
 
 Parris, Rev. Samuel, 76. 
 
 Pepperell, William, 111-115, 120. 
 
 Percy, Lord, 193. 
 
 Peters, Rev. Hugh, 16. 
 
 Philip, King, 46, 47. 
 
 Phips, Sir William, 53-63, 65, 74, 75, 77- 
 80. 
 
 Pickering, Col. Timothy, 192. 
 
 Pine-tree shillings, the, 29-34. 
 
 Piscataqua River, 22. 
 
 Pitcairn, Maj. John, 193. 
 
 Pitt, William, afterwards Earl of Chat- 
 ham, 186. 
 
 Plains of Abraham, the Battle of the, 
 133, 134. 
 
 Plymouth, 6, 74. 
 
 Porto de la Plata, 56, 58. 
 
 Port Royal, 90. 
 
 Portsmouth, 22, note. 
 
 Pownall, Thomas, 136. 
 
 Preston, Capt lin, 174, 176-180. 
 
 Prideaux, General John, 133. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 307 
 
 Providence, R. I., 18, 19. 
 Province House, the, 204. 
 Puritans, the, 5, G, 27, 28, 49, 50, 53. 
 Putnam, Gen. Israel, 199. 
 
 Quakers, the, 35-37. 
 
 Quebec, 133, 134. 
 
 Quiucy, Josiah, second of the name, and 
 father of the Josiah Quincy who was 
 the first mayor of Boston, 184. 
 
 Randolph, Edmimd, 51. 
 Rhode Island, 22. 
 Rittenhouse, David, 254. 
 Robinson, William, 36. 
 Rose Algier, the ship, 57. 
 
 Salem, 6, 9-12, 76, 77, 191. 
 
 Snltonstall, Sir Richard, 8. 
 
 Sassacus, 38. 
 
 School, an old-fashioned, 80-85. 
 
 Sewall, Samuel, 31-34. 
 
 Siiays's Rebellion, 214. 
 
 Shirley, William, 108-117, 120, 127, 130- 
 
 132. 
 Shute, Col. Samuel, 93, 94. 
 Slavery, 105. 
 Small-pox, the, 94-100. 
 Social life in provincial times, 104-106. 
 Sparks, Jared, 208. 
 Stamp Act, the, 154-157, 166, 167. 
 
 Standish, Capt. Miles, 38. 
 State Street, 172. 
 Stephenson, Marniaduke, 36. 
 Stone, Rev. Samuel, 22. 
 
 Ticonderoga, 132. 
 
 Town House, the, 170, 203. 
 
 Uncas, 38. 
 
 Vane, Sir Henry, 20, 21 and note, 52, 64. 
 
 Waban, 67-69. 
 
 Walker, Admiral Sir Hovenden, 90. 
 
 Ward, Gen. Artemas, 199. 
 
 Warren, Commodore Peter, 113. 
 
 Warren, Joseph, 184, 185, 194. 
 
 Washington, George, 121, 195-201, 208, 
 
 209, 213. 
 West, Benjamin, 234-244. 
 Wheeler, Sir Francis, 78. 
 Willard, Rev. Mr., 77. 
 William III., King of England, 51. 
 Williams, Colonel Ephraini, 131 and note. 
 Williams, Roger, 17-19, G4. 
 Winslow, Gen. John, 121, 142-145. 
 Wintlirop, Jolm, 8, 20, 26, 52, 64. 
 Witchcraft, 75-77. 
 Wolfe, Gen. James, 133, 134. 
 
 Yorktown, Va., 213. 
 
THE RIVERSIDE 
 SCHOOL LIBRARY 
 
 Mi 
 
 
 M 
 
 
 JSfXvi K:Ji: 
 
 A series of books of permanent value 
 carefully chosen, thoroughly ed- 
 ited, clearly printed, durably 
 bound in half leather 
 and sold at low 
 prices 
 
 PREPARED WITH SPECIAL REGARD 
 FOR AMERICAN SCHOOLS 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY 
 
 4 Park Street, Boston; 85 Fifth Avenue, New York 
 378-388 Wabash Avenue, Chicago 
 
The Riverside School Library. 
 
 Under this general name are published, in firm and 
 attractive style, yet at moderate prices, a series of vol- 
 umes peculiarly suited for School Libraries. They are 
 chosen largely from the best literature which has stood 
 the test of the world's judgment, and yet is as fresh and 
 inviting to-day as when first published. 
 
 In the selection of the volumes comprising this Library 
 the publishers have been assisted by more than one hun- 
 dred of the best educators of American youth. 
 
 The volumes are edited with great care, and contain 
 portraits and biographical sketches of the authors ; also 
 notes and glossaries wherever needed. They are thor- 
 oughly well printed, and bound substantially in dark red 
 half leather, with cloth sides. In every respect they com- 
 mend themselves to all who wish that pupils may have the 
 best, most interesting, and most salutary reading. 
 
 It is hoped that the reading of these books will pro 
 mote a love for good literature, and prevent or correct the 
 taste for reading the trashy and unwholesome stories tha* 
 constantly tempt the young. 
 
 It is believed that the use of this series will give a 
 strong impetus to the movement for supplying schools 
 with thoroughly good libraries, which must be regarded 
 as among the most potent instrumentalities for the pro- 
 motion of good citizenship, and the development of intel- 
 ligence, refinement, and high character among the boys 
 and girls so fortunate as to enjoy their influence. 
 
A SERIES OF BOOKS OF PERMANENT VALUE 
 CAREFULLY CHOSEN, THOROUGHLY ED- 
 ITED, CLEARLY PRINTED, DURABLY 
 BOUND IN HALF LEATHER 
 AND SOLD AT LOW 
 PRICES 
 
 PREPARED WITH SPECIAL REGARD 
 FOR AMERICAN SCHOOLS 
 
 *#* All the books named are i6mo in size, except when otherwise indicated. 
 Their prices are net, postpaid. 
 
 For a full alphabetical list of the authors tvhose books are included 
 in this series, see the last cover -page of this catalogue. 
 
 PRICES, AUGUST 15, igcx). 
 
 Andersen, Hans Christian, Stories by. With a Por- 
 trait. 207 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 All of Andersen's short stories would require two large vol- 
 umes, but be was an unequal writer, and the collection here 
 given contains his best known and most attractive stories. 
 The translator has followed carefull)^ the very simple style of 
 Andersen, so that the book can be read by any one who has 
 mastered the second reader, and by some who have mastered 
 the first. Andersen has been called the first child who has 
 contributed to literature, so thoroughly does he understand a 
 child's imagination. The Preface gives a pleasant glimpse of 
 the man. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Ugly Duckling. The Princess on the Pea. 
 
 I. The Duckling is born. The Pine-Tree. 
 
 II. How the Duckling was treated I. When it was Little. 
 
 at Home. II. Christmas in the Woods. 
 
 III. Out on the Moor. III. Christmas in the House 
 
 IV. In the Peasant's Hut. IV. In the Attic. 
 
 V. What became of the Duckling. V. Out of Doors Again 
 
2 The Riverside School Library. 
 
 Luck may lie in a Stick. at the Old Woman's who under- 
 
 The Tea-Pot. stood Witchcraft. 
 
 The Little Match Girl. Fourth Story : The Prince and the 
 
 The Beetle. Princess. 
 
 I. In the Stable. Fifth Story : The Little Rabber- 
 
 n. Out in the World. Maiden. 
 
 IIL A Prisoner. Sixth Story: The Lapland Woman 
 
 IV. Home Again. and the Finland Woman. 
 
 The Daisy. Seventh Story : What took place in 
 
 The Constant Tin Soldier. the Palace of the Snow-Queen and 
 
 The Darning-Needle. what happened afterward. 
 
 The Lovers. The Flax. 
 
 The Nightingale. 
 
 The Snow-Queen. 1. ihe Real Nightingale. 
 
 First Story: Which tells of a Mirror II. The Toy Nightingale. 
 
 and its Splinters. What the Moon saw. 
 
 Second Story : A Little Boy and a The Toad. 
 
 Little Girl. The Emperor's New Clothes. 
 
 Third Story : Of the Flower-Garden The Happy Family. 
 
 The Candles. 
 
 Stories from the Arabian Nights. With an Intro- 
 ductory Sketch. 205 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 This collection of some of the best known stories from this 
 famous book has been made with particular regard to its use by 
 school children. The stories have been rewritten for this edi- 
 tion, and are accompanied by an interesting introductory sketch 
 telling the history of the " Arabian Nights' Entertainments." 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 How the Stories came to be told. The History of Ali Baba, and of The 
 
 The Fisherman and the Genie. Forty Robbers killed by One Slave. 
 
 The Story of the Enchanted Horse. The Story of Abou Hassan ; or the 
 
 The Story of Prince Ahmed. Sleeper Awakened. 
 
 The History of Cogia Hassan Alhabbal. The Story of the Three Sisters. 
 
 The Story of Aladdin ; or the Wonder- The Story of Sindbad the Sailor. 
 
 ful Lamp. The Barmecide Feast. 
 
 The Story of Ali Cogia, a Merchant of The History of Prince Zeyn Alasnam 
 
 Bagdad. and the Sultan of the Genii. 
 
 Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The. By Ouver 
 Wendell Holmes. With Biographical Sketch, Notes, 
 and Portrait. 353 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Dr. Holmes lived to see The Autocrat read by the grand- 
 children of those who read it when it first appeared, and age 
 does not diminish the charms of the juiciest book in American 
 literature. It is like overhearing the witty talk of a brilliant 
 conversationalist to read this book, and tlie imaginary charac- 
 ters who listen to the Autocrat and occasionally put in a word 
 come to be as well known to readers as many more loquacioui 
 persons. A sketch gives the outline of the author's career. 
 Being a Boy. By Charles Dudley Warner. With 
 
The Riverside School Library. 3 
 
 Biographical Sketch, Portrait, and other Illustrations. 
 255 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Mr. Warner tells in a playful way not merely a story of his 
 own boyhood, but the story of country New England life half 
 a century ago. 
 
 Birds and Bees, and Other Studies in Nature. By 
 
 John Burroughs. With Biographical Sketch, Portrait, 
 and Notes. 284 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 John Burroughs has taken his place as one of the most de- 
 lightful writers in America on subjects connected with nature. 
 His observation is close, and his manner is most friendly as 
 he discourses of birds, bees, trees, berries, herbs, landscapes, 
 flowers. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 I. Birds and Bees. 
 
 Biographical Sketch. Bees. 
 
 Birds. An Idyl of the Honey-Bee. 
 
 Bird Enemies. The Pastoral Bees. 
 
 The Tragedies of the Nests. 
 
 II. Sharp Eyes. 
 
 Sharp Eyes. Notes by the Way. 
 
 The Apple. i- The Weather-Wise Muskrat. 
 
 A Taste of Maine Birch. H. Cheatins,^ the Squirrels. 
 
 Winter Neighbors. HI. Fox and Hound. 
 
 IV. The Woodchiick. 
 
 III. A Bunch of Herbs and Other Papers. 
 A Bunch of Herbs. A Spray of Pine. 
 
 Strawberries. A Spring Relish. 
 
 A March Chronicle. English Woods : A Contrast. 
 
 Autumn Tides. 
 
 Bird-Ways. By Omve Thorne Miller. With Sketch 
 and Portrait of' the Author. 241 pp., 60 cents. 
 In fourteen sketches of the American Rol)in, Wood Thrush, 
 European Song Thrush, Cat-Bird, Redwing Blackbird Balti- 
 more Oriole, and House Sparrow, Mrs. Miller gives the habits 
 and ways of birds that she has herself watched. 1 he special 
 value of her studies is in their consideration of particular birds. 
 Captains of Industry. By James Barton. With Bio- 
 graphical Sketch and Portrait. In two series, 403 PP-, 
 and 317 pp. Each, 60 cents. 
 
 In these two volumes are contained ninety-four brief, pungent 
 biographies, most of them relating to men of busmess who did 
 
The Riverside School Library. 
 
 something, as Mr. Parton says, besides making money. Some 
 of the sketches are of striking characters, of whom no extended 
 biographies have been written, Mr, Parton having obtained 
 his information at first hand. In all the author gets at the 
 pith of the subject. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Series I. 
 
 Biographical Sketch of James Parton. 
 David Maydole, Hammer-Maker. 
 Ichabod Washburn, Wire-Maker. 
 Elihu Burritt, the Learned Blacksmith. 
 Michael Reynolds, Engine-Driver. 
 Major Robert Pike, Farmer. 
 George Graham, Clock-Maker, buried in 
 
 Westminster Abbey. 
 John Harrison, Exquisite Watch-Maker. 
 Peter Faneuil, and tlie Great Hall he 
 
 built. 
 Chauncey Jerome, Yankee Clock-Maker. 
 Captain Pierre Laclide Liguest, Pioneer. 
 Israel Putnam, Farmer. 
 George Flower, Pioneer. 
 Edward Coles, Noblest of the Pioneers, 
 
 and his Great Speech. 
 Peter H. Burnett, Banker. 
 Gerritt Smith. 
 Peter Force, Printer. 
 John Bromfield, Merchant. 
 Frederick Tudor, Ice Exporter. 
 Myron Holley, Market-Gardener, 
 The Founders of Lowell. 
 Robert Owen, Cotton Manufacturer. 
 John Smedley, Stocking Manufacturer. 
 Richard Cobden, Calico Printer. 
 Henry Bessemer. 
 
 John Bright, Manufacturer. 
 
 Thomas Edward, Cobbler and Natu- 
 ralist. 
 
 Robert Dick, Baker and Naturalist. 
 
 John Duncan, Weaver and Botanist. 
 
 James Lackington, Second-Hand Book- 
 seller. 
 
 Horace Greeley's Start. 
 
 James Gordon Bennett, and how he 
 founded his " Herald." 
 
 Three John Walters, and their News- 
 paper. 
 
 George Hope. 
 
 Sir Henry Cole. 
 
 Charles Summers. 
 
 William B. Astor, House-Owner. 
 
 Peter Cooper. 
 
 Paris-Duverney, French Financier. 
 
 Sir Rowland Hill. 
 
 Marie-Ant oine Car^me, French Cook. 
 
 Wonderful Walker, Parson of all Work. 
 
 Sir Christopher Wren. 
 
 Sir John Rennie, Engineer. 
 
 Sir Moses Moiitefiore. 
 
 Marquis of Worcester, Inventor of the 
 Steam-Engine. 
 
 An Old Dry-Goods Merchant's Recol- 
 lections. 
 
 Series II. 
 
 Christopher Ludvvick, Baker-General of 
 the Revolutionary Army. 
 
 Governor Edward Winslow, the Busi- 
 ness Man of the Pilgrim Fathers. 
 
 Sir William Phips, Mariner. 
 
 David Rittenhouse, Clockmaker. 
 
 Count Rumford, City Ruler. 
 
 General Seth Pomroy, Gun-Maker. 
 
 Captain Meriwether Lewis, Private Sec- 
 retary. 
 
 Eleazar Wheelock, Teacher. 
 
 Joel Barlow, Merchant. 
 
 Nathaniel Bowditch, Mariner. 
 
 Mr. George B. Emerson, Boston School- 
 master 
 
 Joseph Lancaster, English Schoolmaster. 
 
 Andrew Jackson, Farmer. 
 
 George Guess, Jack-of-all-Trades. 
 
 William Murdock, Machinist. 
 
 Ezra Cornell, Mechanic. 
 
 James Nasmyth, Inventor. 
 
 Gabriel Daniel Fahrenheit, Instrument- 
 Maker. 
 
 Jean Baptiste Andre Godin, Stove Man- 
 ufacturer. 
 
 Jean Le Claire, House-Painter. 
 
 Marguerite Boucicaut, Storekeeper. 
 
 Michel Br^zin, Cannon-Founder. 
 
 Louis Joliet, Fur-Trader. 
 
 Bartholomew Thimonnier, Tailor. 
 
 George Peabody, Banker. 
 
 Abbott Lawrence, Merchant. 
 
 Amos A. Lawrence, Solid Man of Bos- 
 ton. 
 
 John Metcalf , Road-Maker. 
 
 Thomas Brassey, Contractor. 
 
 Thomas Telford, Engineer. 
 
 Junius Smith, LL. D., Projector. 
 
 Frederic Sauvage, Ship-Builder. 
 
 William Ellis, Insurance Agent. 
 
 Sir Joseph Whitworth, Tool-Maker. 
 
 Charles Knight, Publisher. 
 
The Riverside School Library. 
 
 Philip Hone, Auctioneer. 
 
 James Lenox, Book Collector. 
 
 Alvan Clark, Telescope-Maker. 
 
 Jean Baptiste Colbert, Cabinet Minister. 
 
 Erckmann and Chatrian, Lawyer and 
 
 Railway Cashier. 
 Sir Francis Crossley, Carpet ALinufac- 
 
 turer. 
 
 Elizabeth Fry, Wife and Mother. 
 The Earl of .Shaftesbury, Public Servant. 
 Mrs. Coston, Ship's Signal Manufac- 
 turer. 
 John Delafield, Merchant. 
 Henry Fawcett, Public Man. 
 Joseph Hugo, Master Carpenter. 
 Baron von Stein, Prime Minister. 
 
 Child Life. Selections from Child Life in Poetry and 
 Child Life in Prose. Edited by John Greenleaf 
 Whittier. With Frontispiece Illustration. 196 pp., 
 60 cents. 
 
 Mr. Whittier, aided by Miss Larcom, made two considerable 
 collections of poetry and prose, from the writings of well- 
 known authors. The present volume contains the choicest 
 of these selections, with a view to meeting the needs of the 
 younger readers. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 Selections from Child Life in Pobtry. 
 
 My Good-for-Nothing. 
 
 Philip, My King. 
 
 Sleep, Baby, Sleep. 
 
 The Ballad of Baby Bell. 
 
 The Barefoot Boy. 
 
 Little Bell. 
 
 Seven Times One. 
 
 Over in the Meadow. 
 
 The School. 
 
 "Hold Fast what I give You." 
 
 The Little Maiden and the Little Bird 
 
 Sing on, Blithe Bird. 
 
 The Sandpiper. 
 
 Who stole the Bird's Nest. 
 
 Robert of Lincoln. 
 
 The Bluebird. 
 
 Milking. 
 
 Farm- Yard Song. 
 
 Buttercups and Daisies 
 
 Jack in the Pulpit. 
 
 The Violet. 
 
 The Brook. 
 
 The Gladness of Nature. 
 
 The Fairies of the Caldon-Low. 
 
 Hiawatha's Childhood. 
 
 The Baby of the Regiment. 
 
 On White Island. 
 
 The Cruise of the Dolphin 
 
 How the Crickets brought Good Fortune 
 
 Geyvind and Marit 
 
 Castles in the Air. 
 Lady Moon. 
 The New Moon. 
 The Owl and the Pussy-Cat. 
 A Visit from St. Nicholas. 
 Jack Frost. 
 A Masquerade. 
 I remember, I remember. 
 In School-Days. 
 The Little Brother. 
 Thanksgiving-Day. 
 The Crow's Children. 
 We are Seven. 
 The First Snow-Fall. 
 Child and Mother. 
 Kitty. 
 
 A Night with a Wolf. 
 Lucy Gray. 
 
 The Captain's Daughter. 
 The Gray Swan. 
 The Battle of Blenheim. 
 John Gilpin. 
 The Spider and the Fly. 
 The Mountain and the SquirreL 
 Little Brown Hands. 
 All Things Beautiful. 
 Selections from Child Life in Prose. 
 
 Boots at the Holly-Tree Inn. 
 The Fish I did n't catch. 
 The Prince's Visit. 
 The Hen that hatched Ducki. 
 Dream-Children : A Revery. 
 
 Children's Hour, The, and Other Poems. 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. With Biographi 
 
The Riverside School Library. 
 
 cal Sketch, Notes, Portrait, and Illustrations. 
 60 cents. 
 
 260 pp 
 
 In this volume are gathered the most popular of Long- 
 fellow's shorter poems, beginning with those most familiar and 
 easy, and proceeding to the more scholarly. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 The Children's Hour. 
 
 The Windmill. 
 
 Maiden and Weathercock. 
 
 Decoration Day. 
 
 Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of 
 
 Bethlehem. 
 The Phantom Ship. 
 Pegasus in Pound. 
 The Sermon of St. Francis. 
 Walter Von der Vogelweid. 
 Sir Humphrey Gilbert. 
 Victor Galbraith. 
 The Ropewalk. 
 Santa Filomena. 
 The Three Kings. 
 The Castle by the Sea. 
 The Skeleton in Armor. 
 The Fiftieth Birthday of Agassiz. 
 Maidenhood. 
 Excelsior. 
 
 The Village Blacksmith. 
 From My Arm-Chair. 
 Song: " Stay, Stay at Home, My Heart." 
 The Wreck of the Hesperus. 
 The Bells of Lynn. 
 The Tide rises, the Tide falls. 
 The Open Window. 
 Resignation. 
 A Day of Sunshine. 
 Daylight and Moonlight. 
 Twilight. 
 Daybreak. 
 
 The City and the Sea. 
 Four by the Clock. 
 A Psalm of Life. 
 The Castle-Builder. 
 The Chamber over the Gate. 
 The Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face. 
 Prelude. 
 
 The Boy and the Brook. 
 The Sea hath its Pearls. 
 A Song from the Portuguese. 
 T o«s and Gain. 
 To the Avon. 
 The Arrow and the Song. 
 The Challenge. 
 The Day is Done. 
 To an Old Damah Song Book. 
 
 Morituri Salutamus. 
 
 Amalfi. 
 
 The Discoverer of the North Cap* 
 
 Curfew. 
 
 The Poet and his Songs. 
 
 Paul Revere's Ride. 
 
 The Bridge. 
 
 The Cumberland. 
 
 Christmas Bells. 
 
 Killed at the Ford. 
 
 It is not always May. 
 
 Rain in Summer. 
 
 My Lost Youth. 
 
 Changed. 
 
 The Happiest Land. 
 
 The Emperor's Bird's-Nest. 
 
 The Old Clock on the Stairs. 
 
 Song of the Bell. 
 
 Lady Wentworth. 
 
 Mad River. 
 
 The Builders. 
 
 Annie of Tharaw. 
 
 The Bell of Atri. 
 
 The Brook and the Wave 
 
 The Return of Spring. 
 
 The Beleaguered City. 
 
 Gaspar Becerra. 
 
 To the River Charles. 
 
 Three Friends of Mine. 
 
 Charles Sumner. 
 
 Oliver Basselin. 
 
 Nuremberg. 
 
 The Bells of San Bias. 
 
 The Golden Mile-Stone. 
 
 The Birds of Killingworth. 
 
 The Herons of Elmwood. 
 
 Bayard 'laylor. 
 
 Travels by the Fireside. 
 
 A Ballad of the French Fleet. 
 
 King Christian. 
 
 A Gleam of Sunshine. 
 
 The Arsenal at Springfield. 
 
 The Ladder of St. Augustine. 
 
 Hawthorne. 
 
 The Warden of the Cinque Ports 
 
 The Legend of the Crossbill. 
 
 Aftermath. 
 
 The Building of the Ship. 
 
 The Masque of Pandora. 
 
 The Hanging of the Crane. 
 
The Riverside School Library, 7 
 
 Christmas Carol, A, and The Cricket on the 
 Hearth. By Charles Dickens. With Sketch ot the 
 Life of Dickens, and Portrait. 230 pp., 60 cents. 
 These two stories are the most famous and dehjj^htful of the 
 
 celebrated Christmas books by Dickens, which fifty years ago 
 
 made a new form in English Literature. 
 
 Enoch Arden, The Coming of Arthur, and Other 
 Poems. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson. With Intro- 
 ductions, Notes, Picture cf Lord Tennyson's Home, 
 and Portrait. 223 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Lord Tennyson's story of Enoch Arden has struck deep in^n 
 the heart of a generation of readers, and the poems which are 
 grouped with it include four of the famous Idylls of the King. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Enoch Arden, and Other Poems. 
 Biographical Sketch. Ode on the Death of the Duke ol 
 
 Enoch Arden. Welhngton. 
 
 The Day-Dream. Ulysses. ^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^.^^^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 le\^5rS.^^'- fhffiof the Old Year. 
 
 Crossing the Bar. 
 
 The Coming of Arthur, and Other Idylls of the King. 
 
 Introductory Sketch. g"'"^^^"?- ,*„»,„ 
 
 The Coming of Arthur. The Passnig of Arthur. 
 
 Lancelot and Elaine. 
 
 Poems and Essays. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 With copious Notes and Introduction to the Poems, 
 by George H. Browne ; Biographical Introduction to 
 the Essays, and Portrait and View of Emerson's Home. 
 254 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 This selection from Emerson's poetical writings, and from 
 his great body of essays, gives the young reader <.n mtroduc- 
 tion to one of the great modern masters of English. Proba- 
 bly no one American writer has been such an inspiration and 
 guide to thoughtful minds. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 Patriotic and Occasional Pieces. 
 
 Concord Hymn. EjL'v tTMatch what other* do. 
 
 Freedom. g^^j^n Hymn. 
 
 Voluntaries. 
 
The Riverside School Library, 
 
 Nature. 
 
 The Snow-Storm. 
 
 The Titmouse. 
 
 April. 
 
 May-Day. 
 
 The Humble-Bee. 
 
 My Garden. 
 
 Each and All. 
 The Rhodora. 
 The Problem. 
 The Romany GirL 
 Days. 
 
 Forerunners. 
 Sursum Corda. 
 
 Nature. 
 
 Two Rivers. 
 Sea-Shore. 
 Waldeinsamkeit. 
 The Apology. 
 Woodnotes. 
 
 The Song of the Pine-Tree. 
 The World-Soul. 
 Monadnoc from Afar. 
 
 Life and Character. 
 
 To J. W. 
 
 Forbearance. 
 
 Etienne de la Bodce. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 Good-Bye. 
 
 Character. 
 
 Terminus. 
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 Introduction. American Civilization. 
 
 The Fortune of the Republic. The Emancipation ProclamatioQ 
 
 The Young American. Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 The American Scholar. 
 
 Evangeline, Hiawatha, and The Courtship of Miles 
 Standish. With Sketch of the Life and Writings of 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "Longfellow in Home 
 Life" by Alice M. Longfellow, Explanatory Notes, 
 Portrait, Map, and Illustrations. 396 pp., 60 cents. 
 The three long narrative poems by which the poet is best 
 
 known are brought together in a single volume, and fully 
 
 equipped with the needful history of the poet and his works, 
 
 and such aids as the interested reader desires. 
 
 Fables and Folk Stories. By Horace E. Scudder. 
 
 Frontispiece Illustration 
 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Millais's " Cinderella." 200 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Little One Eye, Little Two Eyes, and The Lion and the Mouse. 
 
 Little Three Eyes. 
 The Crab and his Mother. 
 The Boys and the Frogs. 
 The Wind and the Sun. 
 Little Red Riding Hood. 
 The Crow and the Pitcher. 
 A Country Fellow and the River. 
 The Elves and the Shoemaker. 
 The Ass in the Lion's Skin. 
 The Star-Gazer. 
 The Boy and the Nettle. 
 The Dog in the Manger. 
 The Boy who stole Apples. 
 Hane in Luck. 
 
 The Lion and the Bear. 
 
 The Hunter and the Woodcutter. 
 
 The Dog and the Wolf. 
 
 Jack and the Bean-Stalk. 
 
 The Wolf and the Goat. 
 
 The Stag and the Lion. 
 
 The Farmer's Sons. 
 
 The Fox in the Well. 
 
 The Two Packs. 
 
 Puss in Boots. 
 
 The Farmer and the Stork. 
 
 The Fox and the Grapes. 
 
 The Goose that laid Golden Eggs. 
 
 The Dog and his Image. 
 
The Riverside School Library. 9 
 
 The Man and the Lion. The Travelers and the Bear. 
 
 Tom Thumb. The Wolves and the Sheep. 
 
 Belling the Cat. The Lark and her Youns Ones. 
 
 The Frog and the Ox. Beauty and the Beast. 
 
 The Miller, his Son, and their Ass. The Lion in Love. 
 
 The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing. The Traveler and tlie Viper. 
 
 The Arab and his Camel. The Wolf and the Lamb. 
 
 The Fisherman and the Sprat. The Travelers and the Axe. 
 
 The Tortoise and the Hare. The Tortoise and the Eagle. 
 
 The Reeds and the Oak. The White Cat. 
 
 The Country Mouse and the Town The Jackdaw and the Doves. 
 
 Mouse. The Hares and the Frogs. 
 
 The Gnat and the Bull. The Four Bulls and the Lion. 
 
 Cinderella: or the Glass Slipper. The Country Maid and her Milk-Pal/. 
 
 The Fox and the Lion. The Lion, the Ass, and the Fox. 
 
 The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood. The Fisherman and his Wife. 
 The Eagle shot with an Eagle's Arrow. The Kid and the Wolf. 
 
 The Fox and the Stork. The Cat, the Weasel, and the Young 
 The Spendthrift and the Swallow. Rabbit. 
 
 The Ant and the Grasshopper. The Woman and her Maids. 
 
 The Lion and the Fox. The Traveling Musicians. 
 
 The Wolf and the Shepherd. The Kite and the Pigeons. 
 
 The Flies and the Pot of Honey. The Cat and the Mice. 
 The Cat, the Monkey, and the Chest- Clever Alice. 
 
 nuts. The Wolf and the Crane. 
 
 The Fox that lost his Tail. The Frogs ask for a King. 
 
 Dick Whittington and his Cat. The Golden Bird. 
 
 Franklin's Autobiography. With a Sketch of his 
 Life from the point where the Autobiography closes. 
 With three Illustrations, a Map, and a Chronological 
 Table. 260 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Benjamin Franklin wrote many letters and scientific treatises, 
 but his Autobiography will outlive them all, for it will continue 
 to be read with delight by all Americans, when his other writ- 
 ings are read only by students of history or science. It is one 
 of the world's great books, in which a great man tells simply 
 and easily the story of his own life. Franklin brought the story 
 down to his fiftieth year. The remainder is told chietly through 
 his letters. A chronological table gives a survey of the events m 
 his life and the great historical events occurrinir in his lifetime. 
 An introductory note gives the history of this famous book. 
 German Household Tales. By Jacob and Wilhelm 
 Grimm. Told again in English. With an Introduc- 
 tion. 252 pp., 60 cents. X t • ■ t 
 The German collection is a large one, and much of it is ot 
 interest only to students of folk-lore. The forty stones here 
 
 selected are the best, and most sure to be hkcd by the young. 
 Some of them are curiously like well-known English household 
 tales. They are all told in a simple, direct English which m" — 
 it possible for young people of seven or eight to read then 
 
 akes 
 em 
 
lO 
 
 I'he Riverside School Library. 
 
 The Cat and the Mouse. 
 
 Old Sultan. 
 
 The Nail. 
 
 The Frog-King. 
 
 The Hare and the Hedgehog. 
 
 Brides on their Trial. 
 
 The Pack of Ragamuffins. 
 
 Snow-White and Rose-Red. 
 
 Mother Holle. 
 
 The Bremen Town Musicians. 
 
 Thumbling. 
 
 The Six Swans. 
 
 The Sea Mouse. 
 
 The Star Money. 
 
 The Three Brothers. 
 
 The Singing, Soaring Lark. 
 
 The Valiant Little Tailor. 
 
 The Wolf and the Fox. 
 
 The Death of the Little Hen. 
 
 The Water of Life. 
 
 Sweet Porridge. 
 
 The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids. 
 
 The Fox and the Horse. 
 
 The Shoes that were danced to Pieces. 
 
 The Goose-Girl. 
 
 Faithful John. 
 
 Jorinda and Joringel. 
 
 The White Snake. 
 
 Strong Hans. 
 
 The Giant and the Tailor. 
 
 Little Snow-White. 
 
 The Straw, the Coal, and the Bean. 
 
 The Hut in the Wood. 
 
 The Cunning Little Tailor. 
 
 The Spindle, the Shuttle, and the Needle. 
 
 The Three Spinners. 
 
 Hansel and Grethel. 
 
 Rumpelstiltskin. 
 
 The Wonderful Musician. 
 
 The Queen Bee. 
 
 Grandfather's Cha-r, or, True Stories from New 
 England History ; and Biographical Stories. By 
 
 Nathaniel Hawti^orne. With a Biographical Sketch 
 
 and Portrait, Notes and Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 332 
 
 pp., 70 cents. 
 
 This is one of the most delightful books for beginners in 
 history in our literature. The great romancer never was so 
 happy as when he was writing for the young, and the book 
 has been enriched by many pictures and a map. In addition 
 also to Grandfather's Chair, the volume contains half a dozen 
 biographical stories by Hawthorne in the same vein. 
 
 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 
 Part I. 1620-1692. 
 
 Biographical Sketch. 
 
 Author's Preface. 
 
 Grandfather and the Children and the 
 
 Chair. 
 The Puritans and the Lady Arbella. 
 A Rainy Day. 
 Troublous Times. 
 
 The Government of New England 
 The Pine-Tree Shillings. 
 The Quakers and the Indians. 
 The Indian Bible. 
 England and New England. 
 The Sunken Treasure. 
 What the Chair had known. 
 
 Appendix : Extract from the Life of John Eliot. 
 
 Part n. 1692-1763. 
 
 The Chair in the Firelight. 
 
 The Salem Witches. 
 
 The Old-Fashioned School. 
 
 Cotton Mather. 
 
 The Rejected Blessing. 
 
 Pomps and Vanities. 
 
 The Provincial Muster. 
 
 The Old French War and the Acadian 
 
 Exiles. 
 The End of the War. 
 Thomas Hutchinson. 
 Appendix : Account of the Deportation 
 of the Acadians. 
 
The Riverside School Library. 
 
 II 
 
 Part m. 1763-1803. 
 
 A New Year's Day. 
 
 The Stamp Act. 
 
 The Hutchinson Mob. 
 
 The British Troops in Boston. 
 
 The Boston Massacre. 
 
 A Collection of Portraits. 
 
 The Tea Party, and Lexington. 
 
 The Siege of Boston. 
 The I'ory's Farewell. 
 The War for Independence. 
 Grandfather's Dream. 
 Appendix: A Letter from Goyerno. 
 Hutchinson. 
 
 Benjamin West. 
 Sir Isaac Newton. 
 Samuel Johnson. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES. 
 
 Oliver Cromwell. 
 Benjamin Franklin. 
 Queen Christina. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Portrait of Hawthorne. 
 
 King's Chapel Burying Ground. 
 
 Early View of Harvard College. 
 
 Pine-Tree Shilling. 
 
 Facsimile of Title-Page of Eliot's Indian 
 
 Bible. ^ 
 Roger Williams House, Salem. 
 Province House. 
 
 Map of Nova Scotia, and Acadia. 
 Picture of Quebec, 1732. 
 Portrait of Governor Shirley. 
 Liberty Tree. 
 Stamp Act Stamp. 
 Faneuil Hall. 
 
 Craigie House, Cambridge. 
 Portrait of Benjamin Franklin. 
 
 Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle, and 
 Other Verse and Prose. By Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes. With Biographical Sketch, Notes, Portrait, 
 and Illustrations. 190 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Biographical Sketch. 
 
 Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill 
 
 Battle. 
 How the Old Horse won the Bet. 
 An Appeal'for "The Old South." 
 A Ballad of the Boston Tea-Party. 
 The Ballad of the Oysterman. 
 Reflections of a Proud Pedestrian. 
 Evening : By a Tailor. 
 The Ploughman. 
 The Old Man of the Sea. 
 Dorothy Q. : A Family Portrait. 
 Bill and Joe. 
 The Last Leaf. 
 Brother* Jonathan's Lament for Sister 
 
 Caroline. 
 For the Services in Memory of Abraham 
 
 Lincoln. 
 Ode for Washington's Fjirthday. 
 Lexington. 
 Old Ironsides. 
 
 Prose 
 
 Dr. Holmes's Prose Writing*. 
 My Hunt after the Captain. 
 
 Robinson of Leyden. 
 
 The Pilgrim^s Vision. 
 
 The Living Temple. 
 
 The Chambered Nautilus. 
 
 Contentment. 
 
 The Two Armies. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 A Song for the Centennial Celebration 
 
 of Harvard College, 1836. 
 The Steamboat. 
 The Deacon's Masterpiece ; or, The 
 
 Wonderful " One-Hoss Shay." 
 The Broomstick Train. 
 Under the Washington Elm. Cambridge. 
 Freedom, Our Queen. 
 Army Hymn. 
 Tiie Flower of Liberty. 
 Union and Liberty. 
 God save the Fl.ig. 
 A Sun-Day Hymn. 
 
 Papers. 
 
 Physiology of Walking. 
 Great Trees- 
 
/2 The Riverside School Library. 
 
 Gulliver's Travels. The Voyages to Lilliput and Brob- 
 dingnag. By Jonathan Swift. With Introductory 
 Sketch, Notes, Portrait, and two Maps. 193 pp., 60 
 cents. 
 
 These famous Voyages give one the entertainment caused 
 by looking first through one end, then through the other, of a 
 spy-glass, and the glass is always turned on men and women, 
 so that we see them first as pygmies, and afterward as giants. 
 The Introductory Sketch gives an account of Dean Swift and 
 his writings, and there are two curiously fanciful maps copied 
 from an early edition. 
 
 Holland, Brave Little, and What She Taught Us. 
 
 By William Elliot Griffis. With a Map and four 
 Illustrations. 266 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 A rapid survey of the development of Holland with special 
 reference to the part which the country has played in the 
 struggle for constitutional liberty and to the association of 
 Holland with the United States of America. 
 
 House of the Seven Gables, The. By Nathaniel 
 Hawthorne. With Introductory Sketch, Picture of 
 Hawthorne's Birthplace, and Portrait. Crown 8vo, 
 384 pp., 70 cents. 
 
 This romance is instinct with the feeling for old Salem, and 
 it embodies some of Hawthorne's most graceful fancies, as in 
 the chapter entitled The Pyncheon Garden. The Introduc- 
 tory Sketch gives an outline of Hawthorne's career. 
 
 Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott. With a Biographical 
 Sketch and Notes, a Portrait and other Illustrations. 
 Crown Svo, 529 pp., 70 cents. 
 
 One of the great Waverley novels. It is hard to say which 
 is the most popular of Scott's novels. Every reader has his 
 favorite, but the fact that Ivanhoe has been selected as a book 
 to be read by students preparing for college shows the estimate 
 in which it is held by teachers. 
 
 Japanese Interior, A. By Alice Mabel Bacon. With 
 Biographical Sketch. 294 pp., 60 cents. 
 Miss Bacon was for some time an American teacher in a 
 
 school in Japan to which daughters of the nobility were sent. 
 
 Her own life and her acquaihtance gave her exceptional oppor- 
 
The Riverside School Library. 13 
 
 tunities for seeing the inside of houses and the private Hfe of 
 the Japanese, and in this vohime she gives a clear account of 
 her observation and experience. 
 
 Lady of the Lake, The. By Sir Walter Scott. 
 With a Sketch of Scott's life, and thirty-three Illustra- 
 tions. 275 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 This poem by Scott is almost always the first one to be read 
 when Scott is taken up, and the picturesqueness. movement, 
 and melody of the verse make it one of the last to fade from 
 the memory. A sketch of the poet's life takes special cogni- 
 zance of the poetic side of his nature, and many of the illus- 
 trations are careful studies from the scenes of the poem. 
 
 Last of the Mohicans, The. By James Fenimore 
 Cooper. With an Introduction by Susan Fenimore 
 Cooper, Biographical Sketch, Notes, Pronouncing Vo- 
 cabulary, Portrait, and two other Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo, 471 pp., 70 cents. 
 
 This is one of the most popular of Cooper's Leather-Stock- 
 ing Tales." The scene is laid during the French and Indian 
 war, and the story contains those portraitures of Indians and 
 hunters which have fixed in the minds of men the characteris- 
 tics of these figures. Miss Susan Fenimore Cooper, daughter of 
 the novelist, gives an interesting account of the growth of this 
 story. 
 
 Lilliput and Brobdingnag, The Voyages to. See 
 
 Gulliver's Travels. 
 Milton's Minor Poems and Three Books of Para- 
 dise Lost. With Biographical Sketch, Introductions, 
 Notes, and Portrait. 206 pp., 60 cents. 
 The introductions and notes offer aids to a clear interpreta- 
 tion and true enjoyment of the author. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Biosrraphical Sketch. H Penseroso 
 
 On Reading Milton's Verse. Comus : A Mask. 
 
 L 'Allegro. Lycidas. 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 I. On his being arrived to the age of IV. To Sir Henry Vane the Younger 
 twenty-three. V. On the Late Massacre m Piemont. 
 
 II. To the Lord General Fairfax. VI. On his Blindness. 
 
 III. To the Lord General Cromwell. 
 
 Paradise Lost, Books l.-IIL 
 
14 The Riverside School Library. 
 
 New England Girlhood, A, Outlined from Memory, 
 By Lucy Larcom. With Introductory Sketch and Por- 
 trait. 280 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Miss Larcom has here told the story of her early life, when 
 as a country girl she entered the mills at Lowell, Massachusetts, 
 and she has drawn a picture of New England in the middle of 
 the century as she knew it, scarcely to be found in any other 
 book. The narrative is a delightful bit of autobiography, and 
 has a charm both poetic and personal. 
 
 Pilgrim's Progress, The. By John Bunyan. With 
 an Introduction, Notes, and Portrait, Edited by Wil- 
 liam Vaughn Moody, A. M., Instructor in English and 
 Rhetoric in the University of Chicago, Chicago, III. 
 218 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 This is the famous first part of the great classic. The editor 
 has shown clearly how interesting and valuable the book is as 
 an illustration of English life in the Puritan preriod, and how 
 masterly it is as a piece of English idiomatic prose. Bunyan 
 interprets the homely England of his day as Milton did the 
 English state and the scholar's attitude. It would be a mistake 
 to regard the book as exclusively religious. It would be a 
 mistake also to deny its religious inspiration. 
 
 Polly Oliver's Problem. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 
 
 With Introductory Sketch, Portrait, and Illustrations. 
 
 230 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 A story for girls, showing how a girl in straitened circum- 
 stances bravely worked out the problem of self-support. 
 
 Rab and his Friends ; and Other Dogs and Men. By 
 Dr. John Brown. With an Outline Sketch of Dr. 
 Brown, and a Portrait. 299 pp., 60 cents. 
 The touching story of Rab and his Friends has introduced 
 many readers to the beautiful character of Dr. John Brown, 
 the Edinburgh physician who wrote tlie tale, and in this vol- 
 ume are gathered a number of Dr. Brown's sketches and tales, 
 including Marjorie Fleming, and several bright narratives of 
 dogs. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel Defoe. With an In- 
 troductory Sketch and Portrait of the author, a Map, 
 and explanatory Notes. 409 pp., 60 cents. 
 The first part of Robinson Crusoe is here given entire, and 
 
The Riverside School Library. iq 
 
 this is the part which the world knows as Robinson Crusoe. 
 In the introductory sketch, the editor, besides giving an ac- 
 count of Defoe's career, shows the reason why this book has 
 been received by readers old and young as a work of genius, 
 when almost the whole of the great mass of Defoe's writing 
 has been forgotten. A map enables one to trace Robinson 
 Crusoe's imaginary voyagings and to place the island near the 
 disputed boundary of Venezuela. 
 
 Shakespeare, Tales from. By Charles and Mary 
 Lamb. With an Introductory Sketch and Portraits of 
 the authors. 324 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 There is a story behind every great play, and it is only after 
 one has got at the story that one thoroughly understands and 
 enjoys the play. Charles and Mary Lamb were tliemselves 
 delightful writers, and to read theirTales from Shakespeare 
 is not only to have a capital introduction to the great drama- 
 tist's works, but to hear fine stories finely told. This volume 
 contains, besides, an account of the brother and sister, whose 
 life together is one of the most touching tales in English Lit- 
 erature. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Introductory Sketch. Preface. Macbeth. 
 
 The Tempest. All 's Well that Ends WdL 
 
 A Midsummer Night's Dream. The Taming of the Shrew. 
 
 The Winter's Tale. The Comedy of Errors. 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing. Twelfth Night. 
 
 As You Like It. Timon of Athens. 
 
 The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Romeo and Juliet- 
 
 The Merchant of Venice. Hamlet. 
 
 Cymbeline. • Othello. 
 
 King Lear. Pronouncing Vocabulary. 
 
 Shakespeare's Julius Csesar and As You Like It. 
 
 With Introductions and Notes. 224 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 The text followed is that of the eminent Shakespearean 
 scholar Richard Grant White, whose notes, always to the 
 point, have also been used and added to. 
 
 Silas Marner : The Weaver of Raveloe. By George 
 Eliot. With an Introduction, Notes, and a Portrait. 
 251 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Silas Marner is one of the most perfect novels on a small 
 scale in the English language, and its charm resides both in 
 its style and its fine development of character. The introduc- 
 tion treats of the life and career of George Eliot, and the place 
 she occupies in English literature. 
 
1 6 The Riverside School Library. 
 
 Sketch Book, Essays from the. By Washington 
 Irving. With Biographical Sketch and Chronological 
 Table of the Period covered by Irving's Life, Portrait, 
 Picture of Westminster Abbey, Introduction, Notes, 
 and Map of the Regions mentioned in Rip Van Winkle, 
 The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and Philip of Pokano- 
 ket, 237 pp., 60 cents. 
 In a nearly equal division, the most interesting American 
 
 and English sketches from Irving's Sketch Book are grouped 
 
 in this volume. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 Part I. 
 
 Biographical Sketch. Legend of Sleepy Hollow. 
 
 Rip Van Winkle. Philip of Pokanoket. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 The Author's Account of Himself. Christmas Day. 
 
 The Voyage. The Spectre Bridegroom. 
 
 Rural Life in England. Westminster Abbey. 
 
 The Country Church. The Mutability of Literature. 
 
 The Angler. Stratford-on-Avon. 
 
 The Stage Coach. L'Envoy. 
 
 Snow-Bound, The Tent on the Beach, and Other 
 Poems. By John Greenleaf Whittier. With Bio- 
 graphical Sketch, Notes, Portrait, and Illustrations. 
 274 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 This volume contains those poems which have made Whit- 
 tier a great household poet, as well as a few of those stirring 
 lyrics which recall his strong voice for freedom. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Biographical Sketch. Mabel Martin. 
 
 Snow-Bound. Cobbler Keezar's Vision. 
 
 The Tent on the Beach. Barclay of Ury. 
 
 The Wreck of Rivermouth. Maud Muller. 
 
 The Grave by the Lake. Kathleen. 
 
 The Brother of Mercy. Red Riding-Hood. 
 
 The Changeling. In School-Days. 
 
 The Maids of Attitash. Mary Garvin. 
 
 Kallundborg Church. The Exiles. 
 
 The Cable Hymn. The Angels of Buena Vista. 
 
 The Dead Ship of Harpswell. Skipper Ireson's Ride. 
 
 The Palatine. The Pipes at Lucknow. 
 
 Abraham Davenport. The Sycamores. 
 
 The Worship of Nature. The Kansas Emigrants. 
 
 Hampton Beach. Barbara Frietchie. 
 
 In Memory: James T. Fields. Laus Deo. 
 
 Bayard Taylor. The Wishing Bridge. 
 
 The Swan Song of Parson Avery. Conductor Bradley. 
 
 The Garrison of Cape Ann. A Legacy. 
 
 A Sea Dream. Among the Hills. 
 
 Storm on Lake Asquam. 
 
The Riverside School Library. 
 
 17 
 
 Songs of Labor. 
 
 Dedication. 
 The Shoemakers. 
 The Fishermen. 
 Tlie Lumbermen. 
 
 The Barefoot Boy. 
 How the Robin came. 
 Telling the Bees. 
 Sweet Fern. 
 
 The Ship-Builders. 
 The Drovers. 
 The Huskers. 
 The Corn-Song. 
 
 The Poor Voter on Election Day. 
 
 The Hill- Top. 
 
 The Prayer of Agassiz. 
 
 Stories and Poems for Children. By Celia Thax- 
 TER. With Biographical Sketch and Portrait. 271 
 pp., 60 cents. 
 Mrs. Thaxter's girlhood in her isolated home on the Isles 
 
 of Shoals and her life there on her return in maturity gave her 
 
 material which she used with power and beauty in her verse 
 
 and prose. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 Stories for Children. 
 
 Celia Thaxter : A Sketch. 
 
 The Spray Sprite. 
 
 Madame Arachne. 
 
 Cat's-Cradle. 
 
 The Blackberry-Bush. 
 
 Bergetta's Misfortunes. 
 
 Some Polite Dogs. 
 
 The Bear at Appledore. 
 
 Peggy's Garden, and What Grew 
 
 Therein. 
 Almost a Tragedy. 
 The Sandpiper's Nest. 
 
 Poems for Children. 
 
 The Sandpiper. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 The Burgomaster Gull. 
 
 Little Gustava. 
 
 Chanticleer. 
 
 The Water-Bloom. 
 
 Crocus. 
 
 The Constant Dove. 
 
 The Waning Moon. 
 
 The Birds' Orchestra. 
 
 Nikolina. 
 
 Milking. 
 
 Yellow-Bird. 
 
 A Triumph. 
 
 Slumber Song, 
 
 Warning, 
 
 The Butcher-Bird. 
 
 Fern-Seed. 
 
 The Great White Owl. 
 
 The Blind Lamb. 
 
 Dust. 
 
 The Scarecrow. 
 
 The Cradle. 
 
 March. 
 
 The Shag. , t • i t 
 
 Sir WiUiam Napier and Little JoaE 
 
 Bluebirds in Autumn. 
 
 Tragedy. 
 
 Jack Frost. 
 
 A Lullaby. 
 
 April and May. 
 
 Robin's Rain- Song. 
 
 A Song of Easter. 
 
 Perseverance. 
 
 Rescued. 
 
 The Cockatoos. 
 
 The Double Sunflower. 
 
 In the Black Forest. 
 
 An Old Saw. 
 
 Cradle Song. 
 
 Marjorie. 
 
 King Midas. 
 
 Wild Geese. 
 
 The Hylas. 
 
 The Sparrows. 
 
 The Nightingale. 
 
 Gold Locks and Silver Locks 
 
 The Kittiwakes. 
 
 Lost. 
 
 The Kingfisher. 
 
 The Wounded Curlew. 
 
 Little Assunu. 
 
 Inhospitality. 
 
 Under the Light-Houae 
 
 Piccola. 
 
 Mozart at the Fireside. 
 
1 8 The Riverside School Library. 
 
 The Flock of Doves. The Unbidden Guest. 
 
 The Kaiserblumen. Sir William Pepperrell's Well. 
 
 The Great Blue Heron. The Chickadee. 
 
 The Lost Bell. Spring Planting-Time. 
 
 In the Lilac-Bush. The Albatross. 
 
 A Poppy Seed. The New Year. 
 
 Be Lovely Within. An Open Secret. 
 Grandmother to her Grandson. 
 
 Stories from Old English Poetry. By Abby Sage 
 Richardson. 291 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 A group of stories after the manner of Lambs' Tales from 
 Shakespeare, drawn from Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and 
 some of the lesser poets, not now generally read ; stories of 
 great beauty in themselves, and illuminated by the genius of 
 the poets who used them. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Geoffrey Chaucer. Sketch of William Shakespeare. 
 
 The Two Noble Kinsmen. The Story of Perdita. 
 
 The Pious Constance. The Story of King Lear and his Three 
 
 The Knight's Dilemma. Daughters. 
 
 Three Unknown Poets. The Witty Portia; or, The Three Caskets, 
 
 The Story of Candace. The Story of Rosalind ; or, As You 
 
 Spenser. Like It. 
 
 Adventures of the Fair Florimel. Macbeth, King of Scotland. 
 
 Campaspe and the Painter. The Wonderful Adventures of Pericles. 
 
 Friar Bacon's Brass Head. Prince of Tyre. 
 
 Margaret, the Fair Maid of Fresingfield. The Tempest. 
 
 Story of a Bad Boy, The. By Thomas Bailey 
 
 Aldrich. With Biographical Sketch, Portrait, and 
 
 many Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 264 pp., 70 cents. 
 
 A humorous and graphic story of the adventures of a hearty 
 
 American boy living in an old seaport town. The book has 
 
 been a great favorite with a generation of boys. 
 
 Tales of a Wayside Inn. By Henry Wadsworth 
 Longfellow. With Introduction, Notes, and Illus- 
 trations. 274 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 In the Introduction the reader is told who were the friends 
 of the poet who served as models for the several story-tellers 
 that gathered in Howe's tavern in Sudbury. 
 
 Introduction. Interlude. 
 
 Prelude : The Wayside Inn. The Spanish Jew's Tale : The Legend 
 
 The Landlord's Tale : Paul Revere's of Rabbi Ben Levi. 
 
 Ride. Interlude. 
 
 Interlude. The Sicilian's Tale : King Robert (A 
 The Student's Tale : The Falcon of Ser Sicily. 
 
 Federigo. Interlude. 
 
The Riverside School Library. 
 
 19 
 
 The Musician'sTale: The Saga of King The Student's Tale: The Cobbler 00 
 
 Olaf 
 
 The Challenge of Thor. 
 
 King Olaf's Return. 
 
 Thora of Rimol. 
 
 Queen Sigrid the Haughty. 
 
 The Skerrv of Slirieks. 
 
 The Wraith of Odin. 
 
 Iron-Beard. 
 
 Gudrun. 
 
 Thangbrand the Priest. 
 
 Raud the Strong. 
 
 Bishop Sigurd of Salten Fiord- 
 King Olaf's (."hristmas. 
 
 The Building of the Long Serpent. 
 
 The Crew of the Long Serpent. 
 
 A Little Bird in the Air. 
 
 Queen Thyri and the Angelica Stalks. 
 
 King Svend of the Forked Beard. 
 
 King Olaf and Earl Sigvald. 
 
 King Olaf's War-Horns. 
 
 Einar Tamberskelver. 
 
 King Olaf's Death-Drink. 
 
 The Nun of Nidaros. 
 
 Interlude 
 
 The Theologian's Tale : Torquemada. 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 The Poet's Tale : The Birds of Killing- 
 worth. 
 
 Finale. 
 
 Part Second : Prelude. 
 
 The SiciHan's Tale : The Bell of Atri. 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 The Spanish Jew's Tale : Kambalu. 
 
 Interlude. 
 
 Hagenau. 
 Interlude. 
 The Musician's Tale : The Ballad oi 
 
 Carmilhan. 
 Interlude. 
 
 The Poet's Tale : Lady Wentworth. 
 Interlude. 
 The Theologian's Tale : The Legend 
 
 Beautiful. 
 Interlude. 
 The Student's Second Tale : The Baron 
 
 of St. Castine. 
 Finale. 
 
 Part Third : Prelude. 
 The Spanish Jew's Tale : Azrael. 
 Interlude. 
 
 The Poet's Tale : Charlemagne. 
 Interlude. 
 The Student's Tale: Emma and Egin- 
 
 hard. 
 Interlude. 
 
 The Theologian's Tale : Elizabeth. 
 Interlude. 
 The Sicilian's Tale : The Monk of 
 
 Casal-Maggiore. 
 Interlude. 
 The Spanish Jew's Second Tale : Scan- 
 
 derbeg. 
 Interlude. 
 The Musician's Tale: The Mother's 
 
 Ghost. 
 Interlude. 
 The Landlord's Tale : The Rhyme of 
 
 Sir Christopher. 
 
 Finale. 
 
 Tales of Nev/ England. By Sarah Orne Jewett. 
 
 With Portrait and Biographical Sketch of the author. 
 
 280 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Eight of the stories which show Miss Jewett as the sympa- 
 thetic narrator of homely New England country life. The 
 stories are Miss Tempy's Watchers ; The Dulham Ladies ; An 
 Only Son; Marsh Rosemary; A White Heron; Law Lane; 
 A Lost Lover; The Courting of Sister Wisby. 
 
 Tom Brown's School Days. By Thomas Hughes. 
 With Introductory Sketches, two Portraits, six other 
 Illustrations, and a Map. 402 pp., 60 cents, 
 Tom Brown at Rugby is the popular name by which this 
 book is known. It is perhaps the best read story of school- 
 boy life in the English language. Rugby was the English 
 school presided over by Dn Thomas Arnold, and a portrait of 
 Arnold is given. The introductory sketch gives an account of 
 Arnold and Rugby, of Thomas Hughes, the '' Old Boy " who 
 
20 The Riverside School Library, 
 
 wrote the book. There is also an account of the English Pub- 
 lic Schools, and a list of books to be read in illustration of Tom 
 Brown's School Days. Also a portrait of Hughes, and a map 
 of the region about Rugby. 
 Two Years Before the Mast. By Richard Henry 
 
 Dana, Jr. With Biographical Sketch and Portrait. 
 
 Crown 8vo, 480 pp., 70 cents. 
 
 As a frontispiece to this book there is a portrait of the au- 
 thor when he took his famous voyage just after leaving college. 
 But great as Dana was as a lawyer, orator, and statesman, he 
 lives chiefly in the memory of men as the narrator of a voyage 
 round Cape Horn to San Francisco before the discovery of 
 gold. The days of such exploits seem gone by, but this book 
 remains as a literary record and will always be thus remem- 
 bered. 
 
 Uncle Tom's Cabin ; or, Life among the Lowly. By 
 Harriet Beecher Stowe. With Introductory chapter 
 on Mrs. Stowe and her career, Portrait, and picture of 
 Mrs. Stowe's birthplace. Crown 8vo, 518 pp., 70 cents. 
 The most celebrated American book, and one of the world's 
 great books. The introductory chapter gives a sketch of Mrs. 
 Stowe's life, and some account of a book which has had a won- 
 derful history. It has well been called not a book only but a 
 great deed. 
 
 Vicar of Wakefield, The. By Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 With Introduction, Notes, Portrait, and Illustrations. 
 
 232 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 So celebrated is this book as a piece of English that German 
 boys, when set to studying the English language, are early 
 given this tale. It is Goldsmith's one story, and has outlived 
 a vast number of novels written in his day. 
 
 Vision of Sir Launfal, The, Under the Old Elm, 
 and Other Poems. By James Russell Lowell. 
 With Biographical Sketch, Portrait, and Picture of 
 Elmwood, Lowell's Home in Cambridge. 202 pp., 60 
 cents. 
 
 contents. 
 
 A Sketch of the Life of James Russell On Board the '76- 
 
 Lowell. An Indian-Summer Reverie. 
 
 Introductory Note. The First Snow-Fall. 
 
 The Vision of Sir Launfal. The Oak. 
 
 Ode Recited at the Harvard Commemo- Prometheus. 
 
 ration. To W, L. Garrison. 
 
The Riverside School Library. 2 1 
 
 Wendell Phillips. Cochituate Ode. 
 Mr. Rosea Biglow to the Editor of the The Courtin'. 
 
 Atlantic Monthly. To H. W. Longfellow. 
 
 Villa Franca. Agassiz. 
 
 The Nightingale in the Study. To Holmes. 
 
 Aladdin. To Whittier. 
 
 Beaver Brook. An Incident in a Railroad Car. 
 
 The Shepherd of King Admetus. The Fountain. 
 
 Tlie Present Crisis. An Ember Picture. 
 
 Al Fresco. Phoebe. 
 
 The Foot-Path. To the Dandelion. 
 
 Under the Old Elm. She Came and Went. 
 
 Ode read at Concord. A Glance behind the Curtain. 
 
 Under the Willows. To the Past. 
 
 Appendix. — In the Laboratory with Agassiz, by a Former Pupil. 
 
 War of Independence, The. By John Fiske. With 
 Biographical Sketch, Portrait of the Author, and four 
 Maps. 214 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Dr. John Fiske is the most eminent of living American 
 historians. His large histories are read eagerly, as he adds 
 volume to volume, and in time it is hoped that he will cover 
 the whole course of American history. This small book con- 
 tains in a nutshell the meat of a great book. It is a clear 
 narrative, and what is quite as important it gives the why and 
 wherefore of the Revolution, and explains how one event led 
 to another. It contains also suggestions for collateral reading 
 and a biographical sketch which gives some notion of the 
 author's training as a scholar and author. 
 
 Washington, George. An Historical Biography. By 
 Horace E. Scudder. With four Illustrations, and 
 Maps. 253 pp., 60 cents. 
 
 Within a brief compass Mr. Scudder has attempted to give 
 the narrative of Washington's life, and to show that he was a 
 living, breathing man, and not, as some seem to think him, a 
 marble statue. He calls his book an historical biography be- 
 cause he has tried to show the figure in its relation to the great 
 events of American history in which it was set. 
 
 Wonder-Book, The, and Tanglewood Tales. For 
 
 Girls and Boys. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. With 
 Biographical Sketch, and Frontispiece by Walter 
 Crane. Crown 8vo, 419 pp., 70 cents. 
 
 The old Greek myths told over again by the greatest of 
 American romancers. 
 
2<» The Riverside School Library. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys. 
 
 A Sketch of the Life of Nathaniel Haw- The Golden Touch. 
 
 thome. The Paradise of Children. 
 
 Preface. The Three Golden Apples. 
 
 The Gorgon's Head. The Miraculous Pitcher. 
 
 The Chimaera. 
 
 Tanglewood Tales. 
 
 Introductory Note. The Dragon's Teeth. 
 
 The Wayside — Introductory. Circe's Palace. 
 
 The Minotaur. The Pomegranate Seeds. 
 
 The Pygmies. The Golden Fleece. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 4 Park St., Boston ; 85 Fifth Ave., New York 
 378-388 Wabash Ave., Chicago. 
 
A FEW OPINIONS 
 
 REGARDING THE 
 
 Edward M. Traber, Silas Marner in your Riverside School Lw 
 
 Deit. of Latin afid , . . • i , , . , , 
 
 Greek, State Agri- brary IS a very attractive book, and it has been 
 cultural CollegeyFort very pleasing to me. 
 Collins, Colo. -' ^ ^ 
 
 William T. Harris, I write to acknowledge the receipt of a vol- 
 
 Comitiissio7ier of Ed- r ^i tt • i o i i t -u t^i 
 
 ucation, iVashiw^- ""^^ ^f the Riverside School Library, The 
 ton, D. C. Tales from Shakespeare, by Charles and Mary 
 
 Lamb. Considering the paper and print, and especially the binding 
 of this book, I am surprised that you can afford it for the price of 
 sixty cents. I am very glad to learn that you are providing books 
 of this class for the libraries of schools. 
 
 H. Preswell, Libra- Scott's Lady of the Lake and Hawthorne's 
 ^Education "^^^Wash- Grandfather's Chair are handsome volumes in 
 ington, D. C. good binding, and beautifully printed on excel- 
 
 lent paper. The volumes of the Riverside School Library are uni- 
 form in binding, and are sold at such reasonable prices as to give 
 rise to the hope that they will ultimately take the place of much 
 of the cheap literature found in many of the school libraries of the 
 country. 
 
 A. S. Draper, Presi- \ think this (the Riverside School Library) a 
 1f"'l{lint^!""crJl great movement, and want to give it all the help 
 
 paign. III. ' I can. 
 
 A. R. Sabin, Superin- The copy of your Riverside School Library, 
 ^tureTchkas^,nr' Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare, seems to me a 
 perfect specimen of bookmaking, and the price 
 such as to make glad the buyer. 
 
 H. E. Kratz, Super- I am surprised that you can furnish such an 
 S;iS;f ;5'r'^' elegant copy of Lambs' Tales for sixty cents. 
 The decadence of the dime novel is due largely 
 to such efforts as yours to place the masterpieces within reach of all. 
 Such efforts cannot fail to secure the approval of all who are inter- 
 ested in the right training of our young people. 
 
24 The Riverside School Library. 
 
 D. C. Oilman, Pre-si- The plan of the Riverside School Library and 
 . iTniJ{iZr%%i the Character Of the type, paper, and binding are 
 timore, Md. admirable. I can only repeat what I have often 
 
 said to you, my hearty appreciation of the work you are doing in 
 making good books accessible. 
 
 W. W. Stetson, State I wish that your Riverside School Library 
 itliT^'f^tfuctiot might be placed in every school-room in the 
 Augusta, Me. State of Maine. These volumes are made up 
 
 of the works of the best writers of English. They are the kind of 
 books which would be peculiarly interesting and helpful to our 
 school children. The paper, type, and binding are especially attrac- 
 tive, 
 
 I would be glad to assist in any way that I can in helping the 
 school officials of Maine to appreciate the opportunity which you 
 have furnished them of procuring a krge list of English classics at a 
 price that brings them within the reach of all. I wish you the 
 largest success in the efforts you are making to extend to all the 
 opportunity to acquire an education. 
 
 Nathan R. Smith, I will say that I am more than pleased with 
 Sr/.?f icadfmy, the books. They beat my best expectations. _ I 
 Lincoln, Me. become more and more pleased with your Riv- 
 
 erside School Library each day. 
 Sarah L. Arnold, Su- The book (of the Riverside School Library) 
 
 fiervisor of Schools, , . , ^ • j t i .r i • tj 
 
 Boston, Mass. which you Sent is delightful in every way. How 
 
 can you make so good a book for that price ? 
 The Library will furnish an opportunity for good reading which I 
 hope every school will improve. 
 
 Prancls Cogswell, Su- Let me say in regard to the Riverside School 
 *SchooV,'cambridg{, Library that I do not believe another collection 
 ^ass. of fifty books can be made which shall not in- 
 
 clude nearly all of these that pupils would read with so much interest 
 and pleasure. I do not see how these books, bound as they are in 
 substantial, even rich binding, can be sold for twenty-five dollars. 
 M. E. Morrison, Li- Miss Jewett's Taicj of New England is so 
 ^LibrlryAss^ciatToi, perfect a book, looked at from ^«; standpoint 
 Cambridge, Mass. at least, combhung value of contents, an attrac- 
 tive and well-made exterior, and, with all the rest, an extremely low 
 price, that it seems as if we ought to have the opportunity of recom- 
 mending these books to our large circle of readers and buyers. I 
 consider this a remarkable series, even in these days of fruitful book- 
 making, and especially valuable for those schools and families th«tt 
 have but little money to spend for books. 
 
The Riverside School Library. 25 
 
 OoL Thomas W. Hlg- Let me add, in fear that I did not say enough 
 
 ginson, Cambridge, , , ,.. ^ ^ ,,^, 
 
 Mass. about the edition of Lambs' Tales, that it seems 
 
 to me a world of cheapness, and thoroughly neat and pleasing in 
 editing and execution. 
 Joseph F. Scott, J«- The books have proved to be a very excellent 
 
 permtendent 0/ Mas- • i , . , ,. , . 
 
 sachusetts Re/orma- senes both in regard to quality and price, and I 
 S' Mas7^^ "^'""^" ^^^ recommend them to any institution similar 
 to ours. 
 WlUlam 0. Bates, Su- i have been more than pleased with the fifty 
 
 perintendentof , ^i t^- ., ,. , ,-.•., 
 
 Schools, Fall River, volumes of the Riverside School Library. 
 Mass. 
 
 S. S. Parr, Superin- The Library is a noble collection of good 
 
 tertdent of Schools, , , t^ -n jj , , , • 
 
 St. Cloud, Minn. books. It Will add to the already important 
 
 work done by your house in furnishing good 
 literature for schools and the young. 
 
 P. M. Ctimden, LI- We have the entire set of the Riverside 
 Library, St. Lmih, School Library, and have found it very satisfac- 
 ^o- tory. We are sending sets of books to the 
 
 schools to be used as supplementary reading, and several titles from 
 this library, which were suitable for the grades we are supplying, 
 have been used in making up the sets. The selections are very 
 good, and in buying for our Juvenile Department this edition is 
 always ordered in preference to any others. Since the issue of the 
 first volume, an order has seldom left the library which did not 
 include some titles from this set. 
 H. C. Gutting, Super- I agree with you that you are really doing a 
 
 intendent of Public f" . / , .^ , i • .u 
 
 Instruction, Carson great service to humanity by makmg these 
 City, Nev. standard works attractive and cheap. 
 
 Elmer C. Sherman, It will give me pleasure to recommend the 
 <^t^of Sch^ooTs, books of this series for school libraries in this 
 South Orange, N. J. county. Your work in placing the best litera- 
 ture within the reach of the schools, by publishing editions at low 
 prices for school readers and libraries, is worthy of the encourage- 
 ment of every friend of the children and of the schools. 
 Melvil Dewey, Direc- We have examined with much interest and 
 AVany^N^.V^''''''^' pleasure Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare, from 
 your Riverside School Library. It is substan- 
 tial and pleasing to the eye, and we shall take pleasure in calling at- 
 tention to it whenever occasion offers. We feel it one of the most 
 important things that has been done recently, and want to help you 
 all we can. We look upon our Home Education or Extension De- 
 partment as one of the most useful in the State, and this selection of 
 the best reading is a corner-stone in its work. 
 
26 The Riverside School Library. 
 
 Hamilton W. Mabie, I want to add an expression of my interest in 
 
 fook'^ New^' yo!^k, the plan, which seems to me to run parallel with 
 N. v. the most intelligent effort to put sound litera- 
 
 ture in the hands of school children. I have been deeply interested 
 in all your work in this direction, and have taken every occasion of 
 expressing my interest publicly. This new scheme seems to mc 
 more comprehensive and thorough-going than anything you have 
 undertaken before. As such it commands my personal support in any 
 way in which I can advance it. It is educational in the deepest sense. 
 Edmund Clarence The Lambs' Tales is admirable for the gen- 
 Stedman, Ne^ York, ^^^^ ^^.jj^y^ economy, and neatness of its type, 
 paper, and binding ; good, well designed, and 
 well edited. 
 
 Wmiam N. Ferrln, The Whittier's Selections from the Riverside 
 ^TpfcifiltnlZ- School Library is a marvel of beauty and cheap- 
 sity. Forest Grove, ness, and your enterprise in getting up this school 
 Oregon. library will be commended by every teacher. 
 
 John R. Park, State We have examined the books of the River- 
 fumc"'7ns7ructiot s^^e School Library, and are much pleased with 
 Salt Lake City, Utah. them. 
 
 The Riverside School Library is composed of fifty volumes espe- 
 cially suited to the needs of public schools to help in the cultivation 
 of a taste for the best in literature. The books are admirably printed 
 upon excellent paper, and bound in half-russia leather of dark red 
 color, with cloth sides and gilt lettering. In fact, they are beautiful 
 books, well worthy of a house whose motto is nothing except the 
 best. In our judgment no more desirable series than this has ever 
 been placed upon the market. — Wisconsin Journal of Education 
 (Madison). 
 
 The books of the Riverside School Library are in their way gems, 
 the paper having been selected with great care, the type used large 
 and clear, the press work done in a most painstaking manner, and in 
 the binding the attempt has been made to produce both handsome 
 and serviceable books. In regard to price, the publishers have at- 
 tempted to make it lower than has ever been made before on similar 
 material in books of like manufacture. — Daily Advertiser (Boston). 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 
 4 Park Street, Boston ; 8^ Fifth Avemie, New York 
 3j8-j88 Wabash Avenue, Chicago 
 
ROLFE'S STUDENTS' SERIES 
 
 OF 
 
 ^tauDaro CngUs^ potm& for ^cl)ool0 ano Colleger* 
 
 This Series contains a number of Classic English Poems, in a 
 carefully revised Text, with copious explanatory and critical Notes, 
 and numerous Illustrations. The various numbers of the Series are 
 as follows : — 
 
 1. Scott's Lady of the Lake. With Map. 
 
 2. Scott's Marmion. With Map. 
 
 3. Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
 
 4. Tennyson's Princess. 
 
 5. Select Poems of Tennyson. Revised Edition. Con- 
 
 taining The Lady of Shalott, The Miller's Daughter, CEnon^ 
 The Lotus-Eaters, The Palace of Art, A Dream of Fair Wo- 
 men, Morte d'Arthur, The Talking Oak, Locksley Hall, The 
 Two Voices, The Brook, and the Wellington Ode, etc. 
 
 6. Tennyson's In Memoriam. 
 
 7. Tennyson's Enoch Arden, and Other Poems. Revised 
 
 Edition. Including Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Tithonus, Riz- 
 pah, Freedom, The Golden Year, Mariana, Sea Dreams, Ayl- 
 mer's Field, Mariana in the South, Locksley Hall Sixty Years 
 After, etc. 
 
 8. Tennyson's Coming of Arthur, and Other Idylls of the 
 
 King. Containing The Dedication, The Coming of Arthur, 
 Gareth and Lynette, The Marriage of Geraint, Geraint and Enid, 
 Balin and Balan, Merlin and Vivien. 
 
 9. Tennyson's Lancelot and Elaine, and Other Idylls of 
 
 the King. This volume contains the rest of the Idylls of the 
 King : Lancelot and Elaine, The Holy Grail, Pelleas and Et- 
 tarre. The Last Tournament, Guinevere, The Passing of Ar- 
 thur ; and the concluding address to the Queen. 
 
 (8 and 9.) Tennyson's Idylls of the King. Complete in 
 one volume, ^i.oo. 
 
 10. Byron's Childe Harold. 
 
 11. Morris's Atalanta's Race, and Other Tales from the 
 
 Earthly Paradise. Each volume, 75 cents to teachers, for ex- 
 amination, 53 cents. 
 
 A descriptive circular with sample pages and testimonials will be 
 sent to any address on application. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 4 PARK ST., BOSTON ; 85 FIFTH AVE., NEI^V YORK 
 378-388 IVABASH AVE., CHICAGO. 
 
CLASSIC TRANSLATIONS 
 
 FROM 
 
 CLASSIC AUTHORS 
 
 HOMER, VIRGIL, DANTE, GOETHE, SCHILLER, 
 OMAR KHAYYAM, AND OTHERS, 
 
 For Classroom and School Library Use. 
 
 STUDENTS' EDITIONS. 
 
 Homer's Iliad : Bryant. Crown 8vo $i.oo, net 
 
 Homer's Odyssey: Bryant. Crown 8vo i. oo, net 
 
 Homer's Odyssey: Palmer. Crown 8vo i.oo, net 
 
 Virgil's ^neid : Cranch. Crown 8vo i.oo, net 
 
 IN THE RIVERSIDE LITERATURE SERIES. 
 
 Homer's Ulysses among the Ph^acians (from Bry- 
 ant's Odyssey). No. 43. i6mo, linen, 25 cents, fiet ; 
 paper .1^, net 
 
 Homer's Iliad. Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV : Bryant. 
 
 No. 137. i6mo, paper .15, jiet 
 
 Homer's Iliad. Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV : Pope. 
 No. loi. i6mo, linen, 25 cents, «^/; paper 
 
 Plato's Apology, Crito, and the Closing Scene 
 of Ph/Edo : More. The Judgment of Socrates. No. 
 129. i6mo, paper 
 
 Virgil's ^neid. Books I, II, III : Cranch. No. 112. 
 i6mo, paper 
 
 OTHER EDITIONS. 
 
 iEscHYLUs's Prometheus Bound: More. i2mo 
 
 Euripides's Three Dramas [Alkestis, Medea, Hip- 
 
 polytos] : Lawton. Crown 8vo i 
 
 Homer's Odyssey. Books I-XII : Palmer. The Text, 
 
 and an English Version in Rhythmic Prose. 8vo. ... 2 
 
 SoPHOCLEs's Antigone : Palmer. i2mo 
 
 Seneca's Medea; and the Daughters of Troy : 
 
 Harris. i2mo 
 
 Dante's Divina Commedia : Longfellow. Svo 2 
 
 Dante's Divine Comedy : Norton. Hell; Purgatory; 
 
 Paradise. 3 vols. Each, i2mo i 
 
 Dante's New Life : Norton. i2mo i 
 
 Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat : Fitzgerald. Square i6mo i 
 
 Goethe's Faust : Bayard Taylor. Crown Svo 2 
 
 Goethe's Tale : Carlyle ; Favorite Poems : Aytoun 
 
 and Martin. Modern Classics, Vol. 13. 32mo 
 
 Schiller's Lay of the Bell; Fridolin ; Favorite 
 
 Poems: Bulwer. Modern Classics, Vol. 14. 32mo.. 
 Greek Poets in English Verse (66 translators). 
 
 Edited by William Hyde Appleton. i2mo i 
 
 15, jiet 
 15, net 
 
 75 
 
 50 
 
 50, net 
 75 
 
 75 
 50 
 
 25 
 25 
 00 
 
 50 
 
 40, net 
 40, net 
 50 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
ADDITIONAL INEXPENSIVE BOOKS 
 
 ESPECIALLY ADAPTED FOR 
 
 LIBRARY USE 
 
 ALL ARE STRONGLY BOUND IN CLOTH. 
 
 WITHOUT NOTES: 
 
 MODERN CLASSICS. A Library of complete Essays, 
 Tales, and Poems from the works of American, British, 
 and Continental writers. 34 volumes, averaging 31c 
 pages, $13.60. Each volume, 32mo, 40 cents, net. 
 
 "An unrivaled list of excellent works." — Dr. William T. Har- 
 ris, U. S. Cemmisstoner of Education. 
 
 WITH BRIEF NOTES: 
 
 More than 90 Bound Volumes of the RIVERSIDE LIT- 
 ERATURE SERIES, at prices ranging from 25 cents 
 to 60 cents. 
 
 American Poems, American Prose, Masterpieces of Amer- 
 ican Literature, Masterpieces of British Literature. 
 Each, $1.00, net. 
 
 WITH FULL NOTES: 
 
 ROLFE'S STUDENTS' SERIES OF STANDARD 
 ENGLISH POEMS for Schools and Colleges. Edited 
 by W. J. RoLFE, Litt. D., and containing complete poems 
 by Scott, Tennyson, Byron, and Morris. With a 
 carefully revised text, copious explanatory and critical 
 notes, and numerous illustrations. 1 1 volumes, square 
 i6mo. Price per volume, 75 cents. To teachers, by 
 mail, 53 cents, net. 
 
 Full descriptive circulars of the books mentioned above will be sent to 
 any address on application. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 4 Park Street, Boston; 85 Fifth Ave., New Yorkj 
 378-388 Wabash Ave., Chicago. 
 
)1 Lit 
 
 ^ 7 
 k Condensed List of the Riverside School Library 
 
 Descriptions of tJiese fifty books will be found in the preceding ^ages ; 
 tfie prices are net, postpaid. 
 
 Cents. 
 
 Aldrich. The Storj' of a Bad Boy... 70 
 
 Andersen. Stories 60 
 
 Arabian Nights, btories from the 60 
 
 Bacon. A Japanese Interior 60 
 
 Brown, John. Rab and his Friends ; and Other Dogs and Men 60 
 
 Bunyan. The Pilgrim's Progress 60 
 
 Burroughs. Birds and Bees, and Other Studies in Nature 60 
 
 Cooper. The Last of the Mohicans 70 
 
 Dana. Two Years Before the Mast 70 
 
 Defoe. Robinson Crusoe 60 
 
 Dickens. A Christmas Carol, and The Cricket on the Hearth 60 
 
 Eliot, George. Silas Marner 60 
 
 Emerson. Poems and Essays 60 
 
 Fiske. The War of Independence 60 
 
 Franklin. Autobiography 60 
 
 Goldsmith. The Vicar of Wakefield 60 
 
 Griffis. Brave Little Holland 60 
 
 Grimm. German Household Tales 60 
 
 Hawthorne. Grandfather's Chair, or. True Stories from New England History ; 
 
 and Biographical Stories 70 
 
 " The House of the Seven Gables 70 
 
 " The Wonder-Book, and Tangle wood Tales 70 
 
 Holmes. The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table 60 
 
 " Grandmother's Story, and Other Verse and Prose 60 
 
 Hughes. Tom Brown's School Days 60 
 
 Irving. Essays from the Sketch Book 60 
 
 iewett, Sarah Orne. Tales of New England 60 
 .«amb. Tales from Shakespeare 60 
 
 Larcom, Lucy. A New England Girlhood 60 
 
 Longfellow. The Children's Hour, and Other Poems 60 
 
 " Evangeline, Hiawatha, and The Courtship of Miles Standish . . . . 60 
 
 " Tales of a Wayside Inn 60 
 
 Lowell. The Vision of Sir Launfal, and Other Poems 60 
 
 Miller, Olive Thorne. Bird-Ways 60 
 
 Milton. Minor Poems, and Books I. -III. of Paradise Lost 60 
 
 Parton. Captains of I ndustry , First Series 60 
 
 " Captains of Industry, Second Series 60 
 
 Richardson, Abby Sage. Stories from Old English Poetry 60 
 
 Scott. Ivanhoe 70 
 
 " The Lady of the Lake 60 
 
 Scudder. Fable's and Folk Stories 60 
 
 " George Washington 60 
 
 Shakespeare. Julius Csesar, and As You Like It 60. 
 
 Stowe. Uncle Tom"s Cabin ro 
 
 Swift. Gulliver's Voyages to Lilliput and Brobdingnag 60 
 
 Tennyson. Enoch Arden, The Coming of Arthur, and Other Poems 60 
 
 Thaxter, Celia. Stories and Poems for Children 60 
 
 Warner. Being a Boy 60 
 
 Whittier . Selections'from Child Life in Poetry and Prose 60 
 
 " Snow-Bound, The Tent on the Beach, and Other Poems 60 
 
 Wiggin, Kate Douglas. Polly Oliver's Problem 60 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 Boston. New York, Chicago 
 
(I 
 

 il 
 
 l>'''»"^'^>'