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 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR 
 
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 "^yc 
 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne 
 
 ■i^i^i_i^i_i_i_i_i.,i_i_i.,i^i 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Maynard, Merrill <5c Co. 
 
 43,45 <&! 47 East lOIiJ St. 
 
 J 
 
ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES, 
 
 FOR 
 
 Classes in English Literature, Reading", Grammar, etc 
 
 EDITED BY EMINENT ENGLISH AND AMERICAN SCHOLARS, 
 
 Each Volume contains a Sketch of the Author's Life, Prefatofy and 
 Explanatory Notes, etc., etc. 
 
 1 Byron's Prophecy of Dante. 
 
 (Cantos I. and II.) 
 
 2 Milton's Li'Allegro, and II Pen- 
 
 seroso. 
 
 3 LiOvd Bacon's Essays, Civil and 
 
 Moral. (Selected.) 
 
 4 Byron's Prisoner of Chillon. 
 
 5 Moore's Fire Worshippers. 
 
 (Lalia Kookh. Selected.) 
 
 6 Goldsmith's Deserted Village. 
 
 7 Scott's Marniion. (Selections 
 
 from Canto VI.) 
 
 8 Scott'sLay of theL,ast Minstrel. 
 
 (Introduction and Canto I.) 
 
 9 Burns'sCotter'sSaturday Night, 
 ! and other Poems. 
 
 1 10 Crabbe's The Village. 
 
 1 11 Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. 
 j (Abridgment of Part I. ) 
 
 13 Macavilay's Essay on Bunyan's 
 
 I Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 1 13 Macaulay's Armada, and other 
 Poems. 
 
 ! 14 Shakespeare's Merchant of Ve- 
 nice. (Selections from Acts I., 
 III., and IV.) 
 
 15 Goldsmith's Traveller. 
 
 16 Hogg's Queen's Wake, and Kil- 
 
 meiiy. 
 
 17 Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. 
 
 18 Addison's Sir lloger de Cover- 
 
 ley. 
 
 19 Gray's Elegy in a Country 
 
 Churchyard. 
 
 20 Scott's L.ady of the Lake. (Canto 
 
 I.) 
 
 21 Shakespeare's As Ton r.ike It, 
 
 etc. (Selections.) 
 
 83 Shakespeare's King John, and 
 
 Kichard II. (Selections.) 
 23 Shakespeare's Henry IV., Hen- 
 ry V., Henry VI. (Selections.) 
 
 84 Shakespeare's Henry VIII., and 
 
 Julius Cajsar. (Selections.) 
 
 25 Wordsworth's Excursion. (Bk.I.) 
 
 26 Pope's Essay on Criticism. 
 
 27 Spenser'sFaerieQueene. (Cantos 
 
 I. and II.) 
 
 28 Cowper's Task. (Book I.) 
 
 29 Milton's Comus. 
 
 30 Tennyson's Enoch Arden, The 
 
 I..otus Eaters, Clysses, and 
 Tithonus. 
 
 31 Irving's Sketch Book. (Sele( 
 
 tions.) 
 
 32 Dickens's Christmas Caro 
 
 (Condensed.) 
 ii3 Carlyle's Hero as a Prophet. 
 
 34 Macaulay's W^arren Hasting; 
 
 (Condensed.) 
 
 35 Goldsmith's Vicar of W^ak* 
 
 field, (Condensed.) 
 
 36 Tennyson's The Two Voice 
 
 and A Dream of Fair Womei 
 3 7 Memory Quotations. 
 
 38 Cavalier Poets. 
 
 39 Dryden's Alexander's Feas 
 
 and MacFlecknoe. 
 
 40 Keats's The Eve of St. Agnes. 
 
 41 Irving.'s Legend of Sleepy Ho 
 
 low. 
 
 42 Lamb's Tales from Shak< 
 
 speare. 
 
 43 L.e Row's How to Teach Rea< 
 
 ing. 
 
 44 Webster's Bunker Hill Ors 
 
 tions. 
 
 45 The Academy Orthoepist. I 
 
 Manual of Pronunciation. i 
 
 46 Milton's Lycidas, and Hym I 
 
 on the Nativity. I 
 
 47 Bryant's Thanatopsis, andothtj 
 
 Poems. I 
 
 48 Buskin's Modern Painter 
 
 (Selections.) 
 
 49 The Shakespeare Speaker. 
 
 50 Thackeray's Roundabout F: 
 
 pers. 
 
 51 "Webster's Oration on Adan 
 
 and Jeflf'erson. 
 
 52 Brown's liab and his Friends. 
 .53 Morris's Life and Death « 
 
 Jason. , 
 
 54 Burke's Speech on America! 
 
 Taxation. 
 
 55 Pope's Rape of the I<ock. 
 
 56 Tennyson's Elaine. 
 
 57 Tennyson's In Memoriam. 
 
 58 Church's Story of the ^neid. 
 
 59 Church's Story of the Iliad. 
 
 60 Swift's Gulliver's Voyage i 
 
 Lilliput. 
 
 61 Macaulay's Essay on Lord B; 
 
 con. (Condensed.) 
 
 62 The Alcestis of Euripides. En 
 
 lish Version by Rev. R. Potter.M. 
 
 (Additional numbers on nexijf)age.) 
 
MAYNARD'S ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES.-No. 
 
 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 PART I 
 
 NATHANIET HAWTHORNE 
 
 mith moQtnmcnl S^etcb 
 
 NEW YORK 
 MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO. 
 
 ^jV 
 
 New Series, No. I20. February 23, 1893. Published Semi-weekly. Subscription 
 Price $10. Entered at Post Office, New York, as Second-class Matter. 
 

 A Complete Course in the Study of English. 
 
 spelling, Language, Grammar, Composilion, Literature. 
 
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 Copyright, 1896, by Maynard, Merrill, & Co. 
 
Biographical Sketch 
 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne came of a stern, New England 
 ancestry. The founder of the family in this country, William 
 Hathorne (so spelled, but pronounced nearly as afterwards 
 changed by Hawthorne), emigrated from England in 1630, 
 and became a man of some prominence in the new country, 
 a magistrate and deputy in the colonial assembly. His son, 
 Judge John Hawthorne, was prominent in the Salem witch- 
 craft persecutions, and earned an unenviable reputation for 
 harsh judgments. His nature is well shown by the following 
 account of a trial at which he presided. 
 
 Of one accused woman brought before him, the husband 
 wrote: "She was forced to stand with her arms stretched 
 out. I requested that I might hold one of her hands, but it 
 was declined me ; then she desired me to wipe the tears from 
 her eyes, which I did ; then she desired that she might lean 
 herself on me, saying she should faint. Justice Hathorne 
 replied she had strength enough to torture these persons, and 
 she should have strength enough to stand. I repeating some- 
 thing against their cruel proceedings, they commanded me to 
 be silent, or else I should be turned out of the room." 
 
 The third son of Judge Hathorne was " Farmer Joseph," 
 who lived and died peaceably at Salem. Joseph's fifth son, 
 "Bold Daniel," became a privateersman in the Revolutionary 
 War. Daniel's third son, Nathaniel, was born in 1775, and 
 was the father of our author. 
 
 Hawthorne's father was a sea-captain, reserved, melancholy^ 
 and stern, and said to be fond of reading and of children. He 
 married Elizabeth Manning, a descendant of Richard Manning, 
 
2 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 of Dartmouth, England, and at Salem, Massachusetts, on 
 July 4, 1804, Nathaniel Hawthorne, the author, was born. 
 
 His father died four years after, arxd Hawthorne was 
 brought up by his grandfather Manning, who paid for his 
 education. 
 
 In later life Hawthorne wrote that ' ' one of the peculi- 
 arities " of his boyhood was ' ' a grievous disinclination to go 
 to school." He appears to have been an adventurous boy, 
 fond of all outdoor exercises, until an accident in playing ball 
 injured his foot. This lameness lasted a long while and re- 
 stricted his boyish activity so that he took to reading as a 
 pastime. His letters written at this time contain frequent 
 allusions to books, and also occasional scraps of poetry. 
 
 In 1821 Hawthorne entered Bowdoin College, where he had 
 the good fortune to be a classmate of Longfellow. Another 
 classmate was Jonathan Cilley, afterwards a member of Con- 
 gress. Franklin Pierce, afterwards President of the United 
 States and an intimate friend, was at that time a sophomore. 
 
 These friendships appear to have been about all that he 
 gained from his college life. "I was an idle student," he 
 wrote in after years, " negligent of college rules and the Pro- 
 crustean details of academic life, rather choosing to nurse my 
 own fancies than to dig Greek roots and be numbered among 
 the learned Thebans." His extreme shyness is shown by the 
 fact that he regularly paid fines rather than make declama- 
 tions. 
 
 Hawthorne graduated in 1825, and returned to Salem, where 
 he settled in the gloomy old family mansion and began to 
 write ; at first tentatively, and later with the avowed purpose 
 of making literature his profession. In his " Note Book," 
 under date of October 4, 1840, he says: "Here I sit in this 
 accustomed chamber where I used to sit in days gone by. . . . 
 Here I have written many tales, — many that have been burned 
 to ashes, many that doubtless deserve the same fate. . . . 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." 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 3 
 
 He finally published some tales in the magazines, but these 
 hardly served the purpose of bringing him fairly before the 
 public. " It was like a man talking to himself in a dark 
 place," he said. 
 
 It was not until March, 1837, that Hawthorne succeeded in 
 getting a volume, the first series of " Twice Told Tales," pub- 
 lished. It brought him an excellent review by Longfellow, 
 of which a portion is given in the " Critical Opinions," and 
 brought him before the world of letters as an accredited 
 author ; but financially was not fortunate, as the sales barely 
 paid the cost of publication. Before long, however, the young 
 author's necessities were relieved by an appointment to the 
 Boston Custom House as weigher and ganger at a salary of 
 $1,200. This was hardly a congenial occupation for a man of 
 a poetical temperament, but Hawthorne made the best of it, 
 and, at the end of his tenure of office (he was removed by a 
 change of administration) had saved one thousand dollars 
 from his salary. 
 
 Carlyle at this time was speaking to the youth of America 
 through Emerson with a voice of thunder, and transcendent- 
 alism was abroad in the land. Hawthorne's friends, the Pea- 
 bodys, were Emersonian enthusiasts, and it was probably 
 through their influence that he was drawn into the Brook 
 Farm community, which seemed to promise an economical 
 retreat, where he could find congenial society and the leisure 
 to write. He embarked his thousand dollars in this enter- 
 prise, and arrived at Brook Farm, April 12, 1841. This com- 
 munity was an unconventional society of cultivated men and 
 women, sick of politics, and hoping by a communal existence 
 to release much time for the development of their individual 
 genius. 
 
 Hawthorne remained in the community about a year. But 
 before he left he had made the discovery that he had never 
 been really there in heart. "The real Me was never an asso- 
 ciate of the community ; there has been a spectral Appearance 
 there, sounding the horn at daybreak, and milking the cows, 
 and hoeing potatoes, and raking hay, toiling in the sun, and 
 doing me the honor to assume my name. But this spectre 
 
4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 was not myself." But the great eye of Hawthorne was there, 
 and every scene was pictured on it. It was the sufficient 
 raison d'etre of Brook Farm that it produced that truly Amer- 
 ican novel " The Blithedale Romance." 
 
 Hawthorne was married in 1843, and went to live at " The 
 Old Manse " at Concord, Massachusetts. Here he spent four 
 happy years, enjoying the society of Emerson, Thoreau, 
 EUery Channing, — who, Emerson said, wrote "poetry for 
 poets " — and of other cultivated men and women. 
 
 In 1846 Hawthorne was appointed Surveyor of Customs at 
 Salem, Massachusetts. He held this position until 1849, but, 
 as the office must have been irksome to him, and the Salem 
 people did not treat him with any geniality, he was probably 
 not sorry when a change of administration ousted him from 
 his position. 
 
 Once more he settled down to steady literary work, with 
 the result that in 1850 " The Scarlet Letter" appeared, and 
 achieved such a marked success that he was enabled to re- 
 move to Lenox, Massachusetts. His next book was "The 
 House of Seven Gables." In 1851 he removed to West New- 
 ton, Massachusetts, where "The Blithedale Romance" was 
 written, and in 1852 he moved again to Concord. 
 
 In 1853 Hawthorne was appointed United States Consul to 
 Liverpool, and for six years nothing appeared from his pen. 
 His stay in England seems to have been a failure. He met 
 none of the great men of letters, then so numerous in Eng- 
 land, except the Brownings. He never really liked the Eng- 
 lish, and after they had read his " Our Old Home," they very 
 generally felt the same toward him. It is in this volume that 
 he describes Englishwomen as made up of steaks and sirloins, 
 a remark which not unnaturally stirred up a strong feeling of 
 resentment in England. 
 
 After leaving Liverpool in 1857, Hawthorne and his family 
 travelled south, and in January, 1858, they settled in Rome. 
 Except for the illness of his eldest daughter, the next two 
 years were among the happiest of Hawthorne's life. He en- 
 joyed the society he met in Rome ; W. W. Story the eminent 
 sculptor, the historian Motley, William CuUen Bryant, Mrs. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 5 
 
 Jameson and other cultivated people being his intimates. He 
 had come to Rome, however, merely as a pleasant excursion, 
 having little or no knowledge of art, and no taste for ruins, so 
 that it was some time before he began to take Rome seriously. 
 The stay bore fruit w^ien he returned to England on his way 
 back to America, in the form of " The Marble Faun," probably 
 his most popular book. 
 
 In 1860 Hawthorne settled again in Concord with the inten- 
 tion of giving himself up to his literary work, but it was not 
 to be for long. Presently the war broke out, and he became 
 gloomy and unable to work, and in 1864 he died when on a 
 trip to New Hampshire with his old friend, Franklin Pierce. 
 He was buried at Concord, on May 24, 1864. 
 
 This slight sketch may fitly close by a description of Haw- 
 thorne's personal appearance by his friend and biographer, 
 Moncure D. Conway. 
 
 " He impressed me — the present writer — as of much nobler 
 presence than formerly, and certainly he was one of the finest- 
 looking of men. I observed him closely at a dinner of the 
 Literary Club, in Boston, tlie great feature of which was the 
 presence of Hawthorne, then just from Europe (July, 1860). 
 His great athletic frame was softened by its repose, which was 
 the more striking beside the vivacity of Agassiz, at whose 
 side he sat — himself a magnificent man in appearance. Haw- 
 thorne's massive brow and fine aquiline nose were of such 
 commanding strength as to make the mouth and chin seem a 
 little weak by contrast. The upper lip was hidden by a thick 
 moustache ; the under lip was somewhat too pronounced, per- 
 haps. The head was most shapely in front, but at the back 
 was singularly flat. This peculiarity appears in a bust of 
 Hawthorne now in possession of his friend and banker, Mr. 
 Hooker, at Rome. It is by Phillips, and is especially interest- 
 ing as representing the author in early life, before the some- 
 what severe mouth was modified by a moustache. The eyes 
 were at once dark and lucid, very large but never staring, 
 incurious, soft and pathetic as those of a deer. When ad- 
 dressed, a gracious smile accompanied his always gentle 
 reply, and the most engaging expression suffused his warm 
 
6 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 brown face. The smile, however, was sweet only while in 
 the eyes ; when it extended to the mouth it seemed to give 
 him pain. There must have been battles between those soft 
 eyes and this mouth. His voice was sweet and low, but sug- 
 gested a reserve of quick and powerful intelligence. In con- 
 versation, the trait that struck me most was his perfect candor. 
 There was no faintest suggestion of secrecy. I have a suspi- 
 cion that his shyness was that of one whose heart was without 
 bolts or bars, and who felt himself at the mercy of every 
 ' interviewer' that might chance to get hold of him." 
 
PREFACE 
 
 IiS" writing this ponderous toipe, the author's 
 desire has been to describe the eminent char- 
 acters and remarkable events of our early annals 
 in such a form and style that the young might 
 make acquaintance with them of their own ac- 
 cord. For this purpose, 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 
 vivid and familiar ideas, and whose lives and 
 actions would best enable him to give picturesque 
 sketches of the times. 
 
 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 connecting 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 familiar 
 existence, and were not wholly contained within 
 that cold array of outward action which we are 
 
» PREFACE 
 
 compelled to receive as the adequate represen- 
 tation of their lives. If this impression can be 
 given, much is accomplished. 
 
 Setting aside Grandfather and his auditors, 
 and excepting 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 ti*ue, has sometimes assumed the 
 license of filling up the outline of history with 
 details for which he has none but imaginative 
 authority, but which, he hopes, do not violate 
 nor give a false coloring to the truth. He be^ 
 lieves 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 
 succeeded in writing a book which will be read- 
 able by the class for whom he intends it. To 
 make a lively and entertaining narrative for 
 children, with such unmalleable material as is 
 presented by the sober, stern, and rigid char- 
 acteristics of the Puritans and their descendants, 
 is quite as difliicult an attempt as to manufacture 
 delicate playthings out of the granite rocks on 
 which New England is founded. 
 
 Boston, November, 1840. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 FART I 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Grandfather had been sitting in his old arm- 
 chair all that x>leasant afternoon, while the chil- 
 dren were pursuing their various s|)orts far off 
 or near at hand. Sometimes you would have 
 said, "Grandfather is asleep) "; but still, even 5 
 when his eyes were closed, his thoughts were 
 with the young people, playing among the 
 iiowers and shrubbery of the garden. 
 
 He heard the voice of Laurence, who had 
 taken iDOssession of a heap of decayed branches 10 
 which the gardener had lopped from the fruit 
 trees, and was building a little hut for his 
 cousin Clara and himself. He heard Clara's 
 gladsome voice, too, as she weeded and w^atered 
 the flower-bed which had been given her for her 15 
 own. He could have counted every footstep 
 that Charley took, as he trundled his wheel- 
 barrow along the gravel walk. And though 
 
lO GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 Grandfather was old and gray-liaired, yet his 
 heart leaped with joy whenever little Alice came 
 fluttering, like a butterfly, into the room. She 
 had made each of the cliildren her playmate in 
 
 5 turn, and now made Grandfather her 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 
 long lifetime to the young. So they came into 
 
 10 the room together, and clustered round Grand- 
 father's great chair. Little Alice, who was 
 hardly five years old, took the privilege of the 
 youngest, and climbed his knee. It was a pleas- 
 ant thing to behold that fair and golden-haired 
 
 15 child in the lax) of the old man, and to think 
 that, different as they were, the hearts of both 
 could be gladdened with the same joys. 
 
 "Grandfather," said little Alice, laying her 
 head back upon his arm, " I am very tired now. 
 
 20 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." 
 
 25 "But here are Laurence, and Charley, and I," 
 cried cousin Clara, Avho was twice as old as little 
 Alice. "We will all three keep wide awake. 
 And pray. Grandfather, tell us a story about 
 this strange-looking old chair." 
 Now, the chair in which Grandfather sat was 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR II 
 
 made of oak, which had grown dark with age, 
 but had been rubbed and polished till it shone as 
 bright as mahogany. It was very large and 
 heavy, and had a back that rose high above 
 Grandfather's white head. This back was curi- 5 
 ously carved in open-work, so as to represent 
 flowers, and foliage, and other devices, whicli 
 the children had often gazed at, but could never 
 understand what they meant. On the very tip- 
 top of the chair, over the head of Grandfather 10 
 himself, was a likeness of a lion's head, which 
 had such a savage grin 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 any- 15 
 thing. Perhaps 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 ladies to adorn 20 
 their drawing rooms with the oldest and oddest 
 chairs that could be found. It seemed to cousin 
 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 25 
 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 
 
12 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 Clara's cheek, ''I can tell you a great many 
 stories of my chair. Perhaps your cousin Lau- 
 rence would like to hear them, too. They will 
 teach him something about the history and dis- 
 
 5 tinguished people of his country which he has 
 never read in any of his schoolbooks." 
 
 Cousin Laurence was a boy of twelve, a bright 
 scholar, in whom an early thoughtfulness and 
 sensibility began to show themselves. His young 
 
 10 fancy kindled at the idea of knowing all the 
 adventures of this venerable chair. He looked 
 eagerly in Grandfather's face ; and even Charley, 
 a bold, brisk, restless little fellow of nine, sat 
 himself down on the carpet, and resolved to be 
 
 15 quiet for at least ten minutes, should the story 
 last so long. 
 
 Meantime, little Alice was already asleep ; so 
 Grandfather, being much j)leased with such an 
 
 \attentive audience, began to talk about matters 
 
 2ol;hat had happened long ago. 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Bit\T before relating the adventures of the chair, 
 Grandfather found it necessary to speak of the 
 circumstances that caused the first settlement of 
 New England. For it will soon be perceived that 
 the story of this remarkable chair cannot be told 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 13 
 
 without telling a good deal of the history of the 
 country. 
 
 So Grandfather talked about the Puritans, as 
 tliose persons were called who thought it sinful 
 to practice the religious forms and ceremonies 5 
 which the Church of England had borrowed from 
 the Roman Catholics. These Puritans suffered 
 so much persecution in England that, in 1607, 
 many of them went over to Holland, and lived 
 ten or twelve years at Amsterdam and Leyden. 10 
 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 
 reasons, in the year 1620 they embarked on 15 
 board of the ship Mayflotoer^ and crossed the 
 ocean to the shores of Cape Cod. There they 
 made a settlement, and called it Plymouth, 
 which, though now a part of Massachusetts, was 
 for a long time a colony by itself. And thus 20 
 was formed the earliest settlement of the Puri- 
 tans in America. 
 
 Meantime, tliose of the Puritans who remained 
 in England continued to suffer grievous perse- 
 cutions on account of their religious opinions. 25 
 They began to look around them for some spot 
 where they might worship God, not as the king 
 and bishops thought fit, but according to the 
 dictates of their own consciences. When their 
 brethren had gone from Holland to America, 
 
14 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 they betlioiiglifc themselves that they likewise 
 might find refuge from x^^rsecution there. 
 Several gentlemen among them purchased a tract 
 of country on the coast of Massachusetts Bay, 
 
 5 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 Palfrey, Roger 
 
 loConant, 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 Puri- 
 tans prepared to follow Endicott. 
 
 "And now we come to the chair, m.y dear 
 
 15 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 
 
 20 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 daughter, 
 the Lady Arbella, was married to a certain Mr. 
 Johnson, the earl gave her this valuable chair." 
 
 25 " AVho was Mr. Johnson ? " inquired Clara. 
 "He was a gentleman of great wealth, who 
 agreed with the Puritans in their religious 
 opinions," answered Grandfather. "And as his 
 belief was the same as theirs, he resolved that he 
 would live and die with them. Accordingly, in 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 15 
 
 the month of April, 1630, he left his pleasant 
 abode and all his comforts in England, and 
 embarked, with Lady Arbella, on board of a ship 
 bound for America." 
 
 As Grandfather was frequently impeded by 5 
 the questions and observations of his young 
 auditors, we deem it advisable to omit all such 
 prattle as is not essential to the story. We 
 have taken some pains to find out exactly what 
 Grandfather said, and here offer to our readers, 10 
 as nearly as x)ossible in his own words, the 
 story of 
 
 THE LADY ARBELLA 
 
 The ship in which Mr. Johnson and' his lady 
 embarked, taking Grandfather's chair along 
 with them, was called the Arbella^ in honor of 15 
 the lady herself. A fleet of ten or twelve vessels, 
 with many hundred passengers, left England 
 about the same time ; for a multitude of people, 
 who were discontented with the king's govern- 
 ment and oppressed by the bishops, were flock- 20 
 ing over to the New World. One of the vessels 
 in the fleet was that same Mayflower which had 
 carried the Puritan pilgrims to Plymouth. And 
 now, my children, I would have you fancy your- 
 selves in the cabin of the good ship Arbella ; 2s 
 because if you could behold the passengers 
 aboard that vessel, you would feel what a bless- 
 ing and honor it was for New England to have 
 
1 6 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 such settlers. They were the best men and 
 women of their day. 
 
 Among the passengers was John Winthrop, 
 who had sold the estate of his forefathers, and 
 
 5 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 Massachusetts. Imagine 
 him a person of grave and benevolent aspect, 
 
 lo 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 
 
 15 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 company 
 
 20 came Sir Richard Saltonstall, who had been one 
 of the ^-^Q first projectors of the new colony. 
 He soon returned to his native country. But 
 his descendants still remain in New England ; 
 and the good old family name is as much 
 
 25 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 Arhella. One had banished himself forever 
 from the old hall where his ancestors had lived 
 
GRAI^VfATHERS CHAIR 1 7 
 
 for hundreds of years. Another 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- 5 
 ing upon the uncertain and dangerous sea, and 
 bound for a home that was more dangerous than 
 even the sea itself. In the cabin, likewise, sat 
 the Lady Arbella in her chair, with a gentle and 
 sweet expression on her face, but looking too 10 
 jiale and feeble to endure the hardships of the 
 wilderness. 
 
 Every morning and evening the Lady Arbella 
 gave up her great chair to one of the ministers, 
 who took his place in it and read passages from 15 
 the Bible to his companions. And thus, with 
 prayers, and pious conversation, 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 20 
 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 i)assengers in the fleet either built huts with 25 
 bark and branches of trees, or erected tents of 
 cloth till they could provide 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 
 
1 8 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 for a time : she Avas probably received as a guest 
 into the family of John Endicott. He was the 
 chief person in the plantation, and had the only 
 comfortable house which the new-comers had 
 
 5 beheld since they left England. So now, chil- 
 dren, you must imagine Grandfather's chair in 
 the midst of a new scene. 
 
 Suppose it a hot summer's day, and the lattice 
 windows of a chamber in Mr. Endicott' s house 
 
 lo thrown wide open. The Lady Arbella, looking 
 paler than she did on shipboard, is sitting in her 
 chair and thinking mournfully of far-oif Eng- 
 land. She rises and goes to the window. There, 
 amid patches of garden ground and cornfield, she 
 
 15 sees the few wretched hovels of the settlers, with 
 the still ruder wigwams and cloth tents of the 
 passengers who had arrived in the same fleet 
 with herself. Far and near stretches the dismal 
 forest of pine trees, Avliich tlu^ow their b'ack 
 
 20 shadows over the whole land, and likewise over 
 the heart of this i)oor 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 
 
 25 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 seashore, with a 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 19 
 
 spade and a bucket, to dig a mess of clams, 
 wliicli were a iDrincipal article of food with the 
 first settlers. Scattered here and there are two 
 or three dusky figures, clad in mantles of fur, 
 with ornaments of bone hanging from their ears, 5 
 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 10 
 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 x>asture ; and every 
 man snatches up his gun or pike and runs in 
 chase of the marauding beasts. 15 
 
 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 20 
 can keep their hearts firm against all difficulties 
 and dangers. But she is not 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 25 
 wilderness her friends will dig her grave. 
 
 Mr. Johnson had gone, with Governor Win- 
 throp and most of the other passengers, to 
 Boston, where he intended to build a house for 
 Lady Arbella and himself. Boston was then 
 
20 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 covered with wild woods, and had fewer inhab- 
 itants, even, than Salem. During her husband's 
 absence, poor Lady Arbella felt herself growing 
 ill, and was hardly able to stir from the great 
 
 5 chair. Whenever John Endicott noticed her 
 despondency, he doubtless addressed her Avith 
 w^ords 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 
 
 loEndicott'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 si^oke kindly to the lady, 
 and then hastened forth to till his cornfield and 
 
 15 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 
 
 20 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 muUifarions 
 business, and had no time to look back regret- 
 
 25 fully 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. 
 
 AVhat a contrast, my dear children, between 
 this bold, rough, active man, and the gentle 
 Lady Arbella, who was fading away, like a pale 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 21 
 
 English flower, in the shadow of the forest! 
 And now the great chair w^as often empty, be- 
 cause Lady Arbella grew too weak to arise from 
 bed. 
 
 Meantime, her husband had pitched upon a 5 
 spot for their new home. He returned from 
 Boston to Salem, traveling 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 Lome which he had 10 
 chosen. But when he beheld her pale and 
 hollow cheek, and found how her strength was 
 wasted, he must have known that her aj^pointed 
 home was in a better land. Happy for him then 
 — happy both for him and her — if they remem-15 
 bered that there was a path to heaven, as Avell 
 from this heathen wilderness as from the Chris- 
 tian land whence they had come. And so, in 
 one short month from her arrival, the gentle 
 Lady xlrbelhi faded away and died. They dug 20 
 a grave for her in the new soil, where the roots 
 of the i)ine 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. 25 
 
 Charley, almost at the commencement of the 
 foregoing narrative, had galloped away, with 
 a prodigious clatter, upon Grandfather's stick. 
 
22 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 and was not yet returned. So large a boy 
 should have been ashamed to ride upon a stick. 
 But Laurence and Clara had listened attentively, 
 and were affected by this true story of the gentle 
 
 5 lady who had come so far to die so soon. 
 Grandfather had supposed that little Alice was 
 asleep ; but toward the close of the story, hap- 
 pening to look down upon her, he saw that her 
 blue eyes were wide open, and fixed earnestly 
 
 loupon his face. The tears had gathered in them, 
 like dew upon a delicate flower ; but when 
 Grandfather ceased to si^eak, the sunshine of 
 her smile broke forth again. 
 
 " Oh, the lady must have been so glad to get 
 
 15 to heaven ! " exclaimed little Alice. 
 
 " Grandfatlier, what became of Mr. Johnson ? " 
 asked Clara. 
 
 "His heart appears to have been quite broken," 
 answered Grandfather ; ' ' for he died at Boston 
 
 20 within a month after the death of his wife. He 
 was buried in the ver}^ 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." 
 
 25 "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 pos- 
 
GRANDFATHER'S. CHAIR 23 
 
 sible 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, containing many 
 old gravestones and monuments. That was Mr. 5 
 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, 
 was to set apart a burial-ground ! " 10 
 
 " Perhaps," said Laurence, " if they had found 
 no 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 15 
 whether he knew how profound and true a thing- 
 he had said. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 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 20 
 household with beat of drum and riotous shouts, 
 races uj) 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 25 
 fellow was hopelessly a prisoner, and now stood 
 
24 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 with sullen aspect at the window, wondering 
 whether the sun itself were not extinguished by 
 so much moisture in the sky. 
 
 Charley had already exhausted the less eager 
 
 5 activity of the other children ; and they had be- 
 taken themselves to occupations that did not 
 admit of his companionship. Laurence sat in a 
 recess near the bookcase, reading, not for the first 
 time, the "Midsummer Night's Dream." Clara 
 
 lo 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 erecting the 
 monument. Little Alice sat on Grandfather's 
 footstool, with a picture book in her hand ; 
 
 15 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 read- 
 ing), but told the story out of her own heart and 
 mind. 
 
 20 Charley was too big a boy, of course, to care 
 anything 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 something which it requires the 
 
 25 thought of a lifetime to comprehend. But Char- 
 ley 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 youi 
 chair," said he. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 25 
 
 Now, Grandfather remembered that Charley 
 had galloped away upon a stick in the midst of 
 the narrative of poor Lady Arbella, and I know 
 not whether he would have thought it worth 
 while to tell another story merely to gratify 5 
 such an inattentive auditor as Charley. But 
 Laurence laid down his book and seconded the 
 request. Clara drew her chair nearer to Grand- 
 father ; and little Alice immediately closed her 
 picture book and looked up into his face. 10 
 Grandfather 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 15 
 room to tell about them all. Among the rest. 
 Grandfather sj^oke of the famous Hugh Peters, a 
 minister of the gospel, who did much good to 
 the inhabitants of Salem. Mr. Peters afterward 
 went back to England, and was chaplain to 20 
 Oliver Cromwell ; but Grandfather did not tell 
 the children what became of this upright and 
 zealous man at last. In fact, his auditors were 
 growing impatient to hear more about the 
 history of the chair. 25 
 
 "After the death of Mr. Johnson," said he, 
 "Grandfather's chair came into the possession 
 of Roger Williams. He was a clergyman, who 
 arrived at Salem, and settled there, in 1631. 
 Doubtless the good man has spent many a 
 
26 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 studious liour in this old chair, either penning 
 a sermon or reading some abstruse book of 
 theology, till midnight came uj^on him unawares. 
 At that x^eriod, as there were few lamps or 
 
 5 candles to be had, j)eople used to read or work 
 by the light of pitch-pine torches. These sup- 
 plied the place of the ' midnight oil ' to the 
 learned men of New England." 
 
 Grandfather went on to talk about Roger 
 
 loAVilliams, and told the children several partic- 
 ulars, which we have not room to repeat. One 
 incident, however, Avhich was connected with his 
 life, must be related, because it Avill give the 
 reader an idea of the opinions and feelings of 
 
 15 the first settlers of New England. It was as 
 follows : 
 
 THE KED CROSS 
 
 While Roger Williams sat in Grandfather's 
 chair at his humble residence in Salem, John 
 Endicott would often come to visit him. As the 
 
 20 clergy had great influence in temporal concerns, 
 the minister and magistrate would talk over the 
 occurrences of the day, and consult how the 
 people might be governed according to scriptural 
 laws. 
 
 25 One thing especially troubled them both. In 
 the old national banner of England, under which 
 her soldiers have fought for hundreds of years, 
 there is a Red Cross, which has been there ever 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 27 
 
 since the days when England was in subjection 
 to the Pope. The Cross, though a holy symbol, 
 was abhorred by the Puritans, because they con- 
 sidered it a relic of popish idolatry. Now, when- 
 ever the train-band, of Salem was mustered, the 5 
 soldiers, with Endicott at their head, had no 
 other flag to march under than this same old 
 papistical banner of England, with the Red Cross 
 in the midst of it. The banner of the Red Cross, 
 likewise, was flying on the walls of the fort of 10 
 Salem ; and a similar one was displayed in 
 Boston harbor, from the fortress on Castle 
 Island. 
 
 " I profess. Brother AVilliams," Captain Endi- 
 cott would say, after they had been talking of 15 
 this matter, "it distresses a Christian man's 
 heart to see this idolatrous Cross flying over our 
 heads. A stranger, beholding it, would think 
 that we had undergone all our hardships and 
 dangers, by sea and in the wilderness, only to 20 
 get new dominions for the Pope of Rome." 
 
 ''Truly, good Mr. Endicott," Roger Williams 
 would answer, " you si)eak as an honest man and 
 Protestant Christian should. For mine own 
 part, were it my business to draw a sword, 1 25 
 should reckon it sinful to fight under such a 
 banner. Neither can I, in my pulpit, ask the 
 blessing of Heaven upon it." 
 
 Such, probably, was the way in which Roger 
 AVilliams and John Endicott used to talk about 
 
28 GRAAWFATHER'S CI/AIR 
 
 the banner of the Red Cross. Endicott, who was 
 a prompt and resolute man, soon determined that 
 Massachusetts, if she could not have a banner of 
 her own, slioukl at least be delivered from that of 
 
 5 the Pope of Rome. 
 
 Not long afterward there was a military muster 
 at Salem. Every able-bodied man in the town 
 and neighborhood was there. All were w^ell 
 armed, with steel caps upon their heads, plates 
 
 loof iron upon their breasts and at their backs, 
 and gorgets of steel around their necks. When 
 the sun shone upon these ranks of iron-clad men, 
 they flashed and blazed with a splendor that be- 
 dazzled the wild Indians who had come out of 
 
 15 the woods to gaze at them. The soldiers had 
 
 long x)ikes, swords, and muskets, which were 
 
 fired with matches, and were almost as heavy as 
 
 a small cannon. 
 
 These men had mostly a stern and rigid aspect. 
 
 20 To judge by their looks, you might have sup- 
 posed that there was as much iron in their hearts 
 as there was upon their heads and breasts. They 
 were all devoted Puritans, and of the same tem- 
 per as those with whom Oliver Cromwell after- 
 
 25 ward overthrew the throne of England. They 
 hated all the relics of popish superstition as 
 much as Endicott himself ; and yet over their 
 heads was displayed the banner of the Red 
 Cross. 
 Endicott was the captain of the company. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 29 
 
 While the soldiers were exi3ecting his orders to 
 begin their exercise, they saw him tal^e the ban- 
 ner in one hand, holding his drawn sword in the 
 other. Probably he addressed them in a speech, 
 and explained how horrible a thing it was that 5 
 men, who had lied from popish idolatry into the 
 wilderness, should be compelled to fight under 
 its symbols here. Perhaps he concluded his 
 address somewhat in the following style : 
 
 "And now, fellow soldiers, you see this old 10 
 banner of England. Some of you, I doubt 
 not, may think it treason for a man to lay 
 violent hands upon it. But whether or no it 
 be treason to man, I have good assurance in 
 my conscience that it is no treason to God. 15 
 Wherefore, I have resolved that we will rather 
 be God's soldiers than soldiers of the Pope of 
 Rome ; and in that mind I now cut the Papal 
 Cross out of this banner." 
 
 And so he did. And thus, in a province be- 20 
 longing to the crown of England, a captain was 
 found bold enough to deface the king's banner 
 with his sword. 
 
 AVhen Winthrop and the other wise men of 
 Massachusetts heard of it they were disquieted, 25 
 being afraid that Endicott's act would bring great 
 trouble upon himself and them. An account of 
 the matter was carried to King Charles ; but he 
 was then so much engrossed by dissensions with 
 his people that he had no leisure to punish the 
 
30 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 offender. In other times, it might have cost 
 Endicott his life and Massachusetts her charter. 
 
 "I should like to know, Grandfather," said 
 Laurence, when the story was ended, " whether, 
 
 5 when Endicott cut the Red Cross out of the ban- 
 ner, he meant to imply that Massachusetts was 
 independent of England ? " 
 
 " A sense of the independence of his adopted 
 country must have been in that bold man's 
 
 lo heart," answered Grandfather; "but I doubt 
 whether he had given the matter much considera- 
 tion except in its religious bearing. However, it 
 was a very remarkable affair, and a very strong 
 expression of Puritan character." 
 
 15 Grandfather proceeded to speak further of 
 Roger Williams, and of other persons who sat 
 in the great chair, as will be seen in the following 
 chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 "Roger AYilliams," said Grandfather, "did 
 20 not keep possession of the chair a great while. 
 His opinions of civil and religious matters dif- 
 fered, in many respects, from those of the rulers 
 and clergymen of Massachusetts. Now, the wise 
 men of those days believed that the country 
 
GRA NDFA 7 'HER' S CHA IR 31 
 
 could not be safe unless all the inhabitants 
 felt and thought alike." 
 
 " Does anybody believe so in our days, Grand- 
 father? " asked Laurence. 
 
 "Possibly there are some who believe it," said 5 
 Grandfather ; " but they have not so mucli 
 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 10 
 tliem 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 15 
 wilderness was wide enough ; so Roger Williams 
 took his staff and traveled 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," 20 
 said Charley. " It is but a two hours' ride." 
 
 "Yes, Charley," replied Grandfather; "but 
 when Roger Williams traveled thither, over hills 
 and valleys, and through the tangled woods, and 
 across swamps and streams, it was a journey of 25 
 several days. Well, his little xjlantation is now 
 grown to be a populous city ; and the inhabitants 
 have a great veneration for Roger Williams. His 
 name is familiar in the mouths of all, because 
 they see it on their bank-bills. How it w^ould 
 
32 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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," 
 
 5 said Laurence, '* 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." 
 
 lo " Yes," answered Grandfather ; "it often hap- 
 pens 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 
 
 15 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 j^osses- 
 sion in 1637. She was a very sharp-witted and 
 well-instructed lady, and was so conscious of her 
 
 20 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 weel^, at which most of 
 the women attended. Mrs. Hutchinson presided 
 
 25 at these meetings, sitting with great state and 
 dignity in Grandfather's chair." 
 
 "Grandfather, Avas it positively this very 
 chair?" demanded Clara, laying her hand upon 
 its carved elbow. 
 
 "Why not, my dear Clara r' said Grand- 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 33 
 
 father. ^'Well, Mrs. Hutchinson's lectures soon 
 caused a great disturbance ; for the ministers of 
 Boston did not thinly it safe and proper that a 
 woman should publicly instruct the people in re- 
 ligious doctrines. Moreover, she made the mat- 5 
 ter worse by declaring that the Rev. Mr. Cotton 
 was the only sincerely pious and holy clergyman 
 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 10 
 themselves ; 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 15 
 eighty-two erroneous opinions on religious 
 subjects diffused among the i)eople, and that 
 Mrs. Hutchinson's opinions Avere of the number." 
 
 "If they had eighty-two wrong opinions," 
 observed Charley, "I don't see how they could 20 
 have any right ones." 
 
 "Mrs. Hutchinson had many zealous friends 
 and converts," continued Grandfather. "She 
 was favored by young Henry Yane, who had come 
 over from England a year or two before, and had 25 
 since been chosen Governor of the colony, at the 
 age of twenty-four. But Winthroj) and most of 
 the other leading men, as w^ell as the ministers, 
 felt an abhorrence of her doctrines. Thus two 
 opposite parties were formed ; and so fierce were 
 
34 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 the dissensions that it was feared the conse- 
 quence would be civil war and bloodshed. But 
 Winthrop and the ministers being the most 
 powerful, they disarmed and imprisoned Mrs. 
 
 5 Hutchinson's adherents. She, like Roger Wil- 
 liams, was banished." 
 
 "Dear Grandfather, did they drive the i3oor 
 woman into the woods? " exclaimed little Alice, 
 who contrived to feel a human interest even in 
 
 lo these discords of polemic 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 apj)ears, from 
 the best authorities, that she gave the great 
 
 15 chair to her friend Henry Yane. He was a 
 young man of wonderful talents and great learn- 
 ing, who had imbibed the religious opinions of 
 the Puritans, and left England with the inten- 
 tion of spending his life in Massachusetts. The 
 
 20 people chose him Governor; but the controversy 
 about Mrs. Hutchinson, and other troubles, 
 caused him to leave the country in 1G37. You 
 may read the subsequent events of his life in the 
 history of England." 
 
 25 ''Yes, Grandfather," cried Laurence; "and 
 we may read them better in Mr. Ux^ham's biog- 
 raphy of Yane. And what a beautiful death he 
 died, long afterward ! Beautiful, though it was 
 on a scaffold." 
 
 " Many of the most beautiful deaths have been 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 35 
 
 there," said Grandfather. ''The enemies of a 
 great and good man can in no other way make 
 him so glorions as by giving him the crown of 
 martyrdom." 
 
 In order that the children might fnlly under- 5 
 stand the all-important history of the chair, 
 Grandfather now saw fit to speak of the progress 
 that was made in settling several colonies. The 
 settlement of Plymouth, in 1620, has already 
 been mentioned. In 1635 Mr. Hooker and Mr. 10 
 Stone, two ministers, went on foot from Massa- 
 chusetts to Connecticut, through the pathless 
 woods, taking their whole congregation along 
 with them. They founded the town of Hartford. 
 In 1638 Mr. Davenport, a very celebrated min-15 
 ister, went with other people, and began a plan- 
 tation at New Haven. In the same year, some 
 persons who had been i^ersecuted in Massachu- 
 setts went to the Isle of Rhodes, since called 
 Rhode Island, and settled there. About this 20 
 time, also, many settlers had gone to Maine, and 
 were living without any regular government. 
 There were likewise settlers near Piscataqua 
 River, in the region which is now called New 
 Hampshire. 25 
 
 Thus, at various points along the coast of New 
 England, there were communities of Englishmen. 
 Though these commnnities were independent of 
 one another, yet they had a common dependence 
 upon England ; and, at so vast a distance from 
 
36 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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 
 
 5 because different nations had formed settlements 
 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 
 
 lo many years before, and called it New N ether- 
 lands. 
 
 Grandfather, for aught I know, might have 
 gone on to speak of Maryland and Virginia ; for 
 the good old gentleman really seemed to suppose 
 
 15 that the wliole surface of the United States was 
 not too broad a foundation 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 
 
 20 upon a stick. So here, for the present, Gj-rand- 
 father suspended the history of his chair. 
 
 CHAPTER y 
 
 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 
 
 25 remember the many famous people whom it had 
 
 held within its arms„ 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 37 
 
 Even Charley, lawless as lie was, seerned to 
 feel that this venerable chair must not be clam- 
 bered upon nor overturned, although he had no 
 scruple in taking such liberties with every other 
 chair in the house. Clara treated it with still 5 
 greater reverence ; often taking occasion to 
 smooth its cushion, and to brush the dust from 
 the carved flowers and grotesque figures of its 
 oaken back and arms. Laurence would some- 
 times sit a whole hour, especially at twilight, 10 
 gazing at the chair, and, by the spell of his 
 imaginations, summoning up its ancient occu- 
 pants to appear in it again. 
 
 Little Alice evidently employed herself in a 
 similar way, for once when Grandfather had 15 
 gone abroad, the child was heard talking with 
 the gentle Lady Arbella, as if she were still sit- 
 ting in the chair. So sweet a child as little 
 Alice may fitly talk with angels, such as the 
 Lady Arbella had long since become. 20 
 
 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 com- 25 
 fortable arms. If Grandfather 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 posses- 
 sion of the chair after Governor Vane went back 
 
38 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 to England," said Grandfather. "But there is 
 reason to believe that President Dunster sat in 
 it, when he held the first Commencement at Har- 
 vard College. You have often heard, children, 
 
 5 how careful our forefathers w^ere 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 establishing a college. Their principal 
 
 lo object was, to rear up i3ious and learned minis- 
 ters ; and hence old writers call Harvard College 
 a school of the prophets." 
 
 "Is the college a school of the prophets now ?" 
 asked Charley. 
 
 15 "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 Dunster sat in Grand- 
 father's chair in 1642, when he conferred the 
 
 20 degree of Bachelor of Arts on nine young men. 
 They were the first in America who had received 
 that honor. And now, my dear auditors, I must 
 confess that there are contradictory statements 
 and some uncertainty about the adventures of 
 
 25 the chair for a period of almost ten years. Some 
 say that it was occux)ied by your owm ancestor, 
 William Hawthorne, first Speaker of the House 
 of Ilej)resentatives. I have nearly satisfied my- 
 self, however, that, during most of this question- 
 able period, it was literally the Chair of State. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 39 
 
 It giv^es me much 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 5 
 have you to imagine so ? " 
 
 "Pray do imagine it, Grandfather," said Lau- 
 rence. 
 
 "With Charley's permission, I will," replied 
 Grandfather, smiling. "Let us consider it 10 
 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, likewise, did 
 those excellent Governors preside while holding 15 
 consultations with the chief counselors of the 
 province, who were styled assistants. The Gov- 
 ernor sat in this chair, too, whenever messages 
 were brought to him from the Chamber of Rep- 
 resentatives." 20 
 
 And here Grandfather took occasion to talk 
 rather tediously about the nature and forms of 
 government that established themselves, almost 
 spontaneousl}^, in Massachusetts and the other 
 New England colonies. Democracies w^ere the 25 
 natural growth of the New World. As to Massa- 
 chusetts, 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 Gov- 
 
40 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 ernor, the counselors, and the representatives. 
 The people of old England had never enjoyed 
 anything like the liberties and privileges which 
 the settlers of New England now possessed. And 
 
 5 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 you want instruction on these points you 
 
 lomust 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 established on a secure 
 
 15 foundation ; but it did not increase so rapidly 
 as at first, because the Puritans were no longer 
 driven from England by persecution. However, 
 there was still a quiet and natural growth. 
 The legislature incorporated towns, and made 
 
 20 new purchases of lands from the Indians. A 
 very memorable event took place in 1643. The 
 colonies of Massachusetts, Plymouth, Connecti- 
 cut, and New Haven formed a union for the pur- 
 pose of assisting each other in difficulties, for 
 
 25 mutual defense against their enemies. They 
 called themselves the United Colonies of New 
 EngLand." 
 
 " Were they under a government like that of 
 the United States ?" inquired Laurence. 
 
 No," replied Grandfather ; " the different 
 
 (( 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 41 
 
 colonies did not compose one nation together ; it 
 was merely a confederacy among the govern- 
 ments. It somewhat resembled the league of the 
 Amphictyons, which you remember in Grecian 
 history. But to return to our chair. In 1644 it 5 
 was highly honored ; for Governor Endicott sat 
 in it when he gave audience to an ambassador 
 from the French governor of Acadia, or Nova 
 Scotia. A treaty of peace between Massachu- 
 setts and the French colony was then signed." 10 
 
 ''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 15 
 country," said Grandfather. "There was now 
 a civil war in England ; and the king, as you 
 may well suppose, had his hands full at home, 
 and could pay but little attention to these re- 
 mote colonies. When the Parliament got the 20 
 power into their hands, they likewise had enough 
 to do in keeping down the Cavaliers. Thus New 
 England, 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. 25 
 Oliver Cromwell then became Protector of En- 
 gland ; and as he was a Puritan himself, and 
 had risen by the valor of the English Puritans, 
 he showed himself a loving and indulgent father 
 to the Puritan colonies in America." 
 
42 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 Grandfather might have continued to talk in 
 tliis 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 Grandfather proceeded with 
 the history of the chair, and related a very en- 
 tertaining incident, which will be found in the 
 next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 lo "According to the most authentic records, 
 my dear children," said Grandfather, " the chair, 
 about this time, had the misfortune to break its 
 leg. It was probably on account of this accident 
 that it ceased to be the seat of the Governors 
 
 15 of Massachusetts ; for, assuredl}^, 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 ! wdjat 
 a vicissitude for a chair that had figured in 
 
 20 such high comj)any, — our venerable friend was 
 knocked down to a certain Captain John Hull. 
 This old gentleman, on carefully examining the 
 maimed chair, discovered that its broken leg 
 might be clamped with iron and made as service- 
 
 25 able as ever." 
 
 " Here is the very leg that was broken ! " ex- 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 43 
 
 claimed Charley, throwing himself down on the 
 lioor 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 5 
 Captain John Hull and 
 
 THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS 
 
 The Captain John Hull aforesaid was the mint- 
 master 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 10 
 colony, the current coinage consisted of gold and 
 silver money of England, Portugal, and Spain. 
 These coins being scarce, the people were often 
 forced to barter their commodities instead of 
 selling them. 15 
 
 For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, 
 he perhaps exchanged a bear-skin for it. If he 
 wislied for a barrel of molasses, he might pur- 
 chase it with a pile of pine boards. Musket- 
 bullets were used instead of farthings. The 20 
 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 25 
 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 
 
44 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 of fish, busliels of corn, or cords of wood, instead 
 of silver or gold. 
 
 As the people grew more numerous, and tlieir 
 trade one with another increased, the want of 
 
 5 current money was still more sensibly felt. To 
 supply the demand, the general court passed a 
 law for establishing a coinage of shillings, six- 
 pences, and threepences. Captain John Hull 
 was appointed to manufacture this money, and 
 
 lowas 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 
 
 15 battered silver cans and tankards, I suppose, 
 and silver buckles, and broken 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 
 
 20 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 buc- 
 caneers — who were little better than pirates — 
 had taken from the Spaniards and brought to 
 
 23 Massachusetts. 
 
 All this old and new silver being melted down 
 and coined, the result was an immense amount 
 of splendid shillings, sixpences, and three- 
 pences. Each had the date, 1652, on the one 
 side, and the figure of a pine-tree on the other. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 45 
 
 Hence they were called pine-tree shillings. And 
 for every twenty shillings tliat he coined, you 
 will remember, Captain John Hull was entitled 
 to put one shilling into his own pocket. 
 
 The magistrates soon began to suspect that 5 
 the mint-master would have the best of the bar- 
 gain. They offered 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 declared him- 10 
 self 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 shillings. This was probably the case when 15 
 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 com- 
 fortable chair to rest himself in. 
 
 When the mint- master had grown very rich, 20 
 a young man, Samuel Sewell 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 25 
 own days. On the contrary, having always fed 
 heartily on pumpkin pies, doughnuts, Indian 
 puddings, and other Puritan dainties, she was 
 as round and pjlump as a pudding herself. 
 With this round, rosy Miss Betsey did Samuel 
 
4^ GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 Sewell fall in love. As lie 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. 
 5 '^Yes, you may take her," said he in his 
 rough way, " and you'll find her a heavy burden 
 enough ! " 
 
 On the wedding day, we may suppose that 
 honest John Hull dressed himself in a plum- 
 lo colored coat, all the buttons of which were made 
 of pine-tree shillings. The buttons of his waist- 
 coat were sixpences ; and the knees of his small- 
 clothes were buttoned with silver threepences. 
 Thus attired, he sat with great dignity in Grand- 
 15 father's chair; and, being a portly old gentle- 
 man, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. 
 On the opposite side of the room, between her 
 bridesmaids, sat Miss Betsey. She was blushing 
 with all her might, and looked like a full-blown 
 20 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 
 25 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 bridesmaids, and Miss 
 Betsey herself. 
 The mint-master also was pleased with lijs new 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 47 
 
 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-servants, who immedi- 5 
 ately went out, and soon returned, lugging 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. lo 
 
 "Daughter Betsey," said the mint-master, 
 " get into one side of these scales." 
 
 Miss Betsey — or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now 
 call her — did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, 
 without any question of the why and wherefore. 15 
 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 20 
 servants, " bring that box hither." 
 
 The box to which the mint-master x)ointed 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 25 
 with might and 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, unlocked the chest, and 
 lifted il^s ponderous lid. Behold ! it was full to 
 
48 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 the brim of bright pine-tree shillings, fresh from 
 the mint ; and Samuel Sewell began to think 
 that his father-in-law had got possession of all 
 the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But 
 
 5 it was only the mint-master's honest share of the 
 coinage. 
 
 Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, 
 lieai)ed double handfuls of shillings into one 
 side of the scales, while Betsey remained in the 
 
 lo other. Jingle, jingle, went the shillings, as 
 handful after handful was thrown in, till, i)lnmp 
 and ponderous as she was, they fairly weighed 
 the young lady from the floor. 
 
 "There, son Sewell!" cried the honest mint- 
 
 15 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! " 
 
 20 The children laughed heartily at this legend, 
 and would hardly be convinced but that Grand- 
 father had made it out of his own head. He 
 assured them faithfully, however, that he had 
 found it in the pages of a grave historian, and 
 
 25 had merely tried to tell it in a somewhat funnier 
 style. As for Samuel Sewell, he afterward be- 
 came Chief Justice of Massachusetts. 
 
 "Well, Grandfather," remarked Clara, "if 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 49 
 
 wedding portions nowadays were paid as Miss 
 Betsey's was, young ladies would not ^yi^q 
 themselves upon an airy ligure, as many of 
 them do." 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 When his little audience next assembled round 5 
 the chair, Grandfather gave them a doleful his- 
 tory 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 10 
 the converts of George Fox, the lirst 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 x>ure desire to make known 
 what they considered a revelation from Heaven. 15 
 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 tlie first twelve had returned, 
 but a multitude of other Quakers had come 20 
 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 
 
50 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 beaten with many strix)es, women as well as men ; 
 they Avere diiven forth into the wilderness, and 
 left to the tender mercies of wild beasts and 
 Indians. The children were amazed to hear that 
 
 5 the more the Qnakers were sconrged, and im- 
 prisoned, and banished, the more did the sect 
 increase, both by the inHax of strangers and by 
 converts from among the Puritans. But Grand- 
 father told them that God had put something 
 
 lointo the soul of man which always turned the 
 cruelties of the persecutor to nought. 
 
 He went on to relate that, in 1659, two Quakers, 
 named William Robinson and Marmaduke 
 Stephenson, were hanged at Boston. A woman 
 
 15 had been sentenced to die with them, but was re- 
 prieved on condition of her leaving the colonj^ 
 Her name was Mary Dyer. In the year 1660 she 
 returned to Boston, although she knew death 
 awaited her there ; and, if Grandfather had been 
 
 20 correctly informed, an incident had then taken 
 place which connects her with our story. This 
 Mary Dyer had entered the mint-master's dwell- 
 ing, clothed in sackcloth and ashes, and seated 
 herself in our great chair with a sort of dignity 
 
 25 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 
 
 u 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 5^ 
 
 fist, ''I would have fought for that poor Quaker 
 , worn an ! " 
 
 "Ah ! but if a sword had been drawn for her," 
 said Laurence, "it would have taken away all 
 the beauty of her death." 5 
 
 It seemed as if hardly any of the preceding 
 stories had tbrow^n such an interest around 
 Grandfather's chair as did the fact that the i^oor, 
 persecuted, wandering Quaker woman had rested 
 in it for a moment. The children were so much lo 
 excited that Grandfather found it necessary to 
 bring his account of the persecution to a close. 
 
 " In 1660, the same year in which Mary Dyer 
 was executed," said he, " Cliarles the Second 
 was restored to the throne of his fathers. This 15 
 king had many vices ; but he would not permit 
 blood to be shed, under pretense of religion, in 
 any part of his dominions. The Quakers in Eng- 
 gland told him wliat had been done to their 
 brethren in Massachusetts ; and he sent orders to 20 
 Governor Endicott to forbear all such proceedings 
 in future. And so ended the Quaker x^ersecu- 
 tion, — one of the most mournful passages in the 
 history of our forefathers." 
 
 Grandfather then told his auditors that, 25 
 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 
 Roxburj^. But besides attending to the pastoral 
 duties there, he learned the language of the red 
 
52 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 men, and often went into the woods to preacli to 
 them. So earnestly did he labor for their conver- 
 sion that he has always been called the Apostle 
 to the Indians. The mention of this holy man 
 
 5 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 
 
 lo Pilgrims at Plymouth there had been a very 
 grievous plague among the red men ; and the 
 sages and ministers of that day were inclined to 
 the opinion that Providence had sent this mor- 
 tality in order to make room for the settlement 
 
 15 of the English. But I know not why we should 
 suppose that an Indian's life is less 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. 
 
 20 In many places the English found the wigwams 
 deserted and the cornfields going 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 fiint-headed 
 
 25 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 after- 
 ward, the smallpox broke out among the Massa- 
 chusetts Indians, multitudes of whom died by 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 53 
 
 this terrible disease of the Old World. These 
 misfortunes made tliem far less powerful than 
 they had formerly been. 
 
 For nearly half a century after the arrival of 
 the English the red men showed themselves 5 
 generally inclined to peace and amity. They 
 often made submission when fchey 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 10 
 necessity for so doing. In 1636, and the follow- 
 ing year, there was the most dreadful war that 
 had yet occurred between the Indians and the 
 English, The Connecticut settlers, assisted by a 
 celebrated Indian chief named Uncas, bore the 15 
 brunt of this war, with but little aid from Massa- 
 chusetts. Many hundreds of the hostile Indians 
 were slain or burned in their wigwams. Sassa- 
 cus, their sachem, fled to another tribe, after his 
 own people were defeated ; but he was murdered 20 
 by them, and his head was sent to his English 
 enemies. 
 
 From that period down to the time of King 
 Philip's war, which will be mentioned hereafter, 
 there was not much trouble with the Indians. 25 
 But the colonists were always on their guard, 
 and kept their weapons ready for the conflict. 
 
 "I have sometimes doubted," said Grand- 
 father, when he had told these things to the 
 children, '' I have sometimes doubted whether 
 
54 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 there was more than a single man among onr 
 forefathers, who realized that an Indian pos- 
 sesses a mind, and a heart, and an immortal sonl. 
 That single man was John Eliot. All the rest of 
 
 5 the early settlers seemed to think that the 
 Indians were an inferior race of beings, whom 
 the Creator had merely allowed to keep posses- 
 sion of this beautiful country till the white men 
 should be in want of it." 
 
 lo " Did the pious men of those days never try to 
 make Christians of them % " asked Laurence. 
 
 "Sometimes, it is true," answered Grand- 
 father, "the magistrates and ministers would 
 talk about civilizing and converting the red 
 
 15 people. But, at the bottom of their hearts, they 
 would have had almost as much expectation of 
 civilizing the wild bear of the woods and making 
 him fit for paradise. They felt no faith in the 
 success of any such attempts, because they had 
 
 20 no love for the poor Indians. Now, Eliot was 
 full of love for them ; and therefore so full of 
 faith and hope that he spent the labor of a life- 
 time in their behalf." 
 
 " I would have conquered them first, and then 
 
 25 converted 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 his brethren. He persuaded as many 
 of them as he could to leave off their idle and 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 55 
 
 wandering habits, and to build houses and culti- 
 vate the earth, as the English did. He estab- 
 lished schools among them and taught many of 
 the Indians how to read. He taught them, like- 
 Avise, how to pray. Hence they were called 5 
 'praying 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. 10 
 ''He sat down in his study," continued Grand- 
 father, " 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 15 
 deserved it." 
 
 " Oh, Grandfather, tell ns all about that Indian 
 Bible!" exclaimed Laurence. " I have seen it 
 in the library of the Atheut^um ; and the tears 
 came into ray eyes to think that there were no 20 
 Indians left to read it." 
 
 CHAPTER YIII 
 
 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 chaxoter. So he proceeded 
 
56 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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 yon, 
 
 5 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 
 
 lo language which hitherto had never been learned, 
 except by the Indians themselves, from their 
 mothers' lips — a language never written, and tlie 
 strange words of which seemed inexpressible by 
 letters ; — if the task were, first to learn this new 
 
 15 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 undertake 
 this toil \ Yet this was what the Apostle Eliot 
 
 20 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 
 
 25 men were tlie descendants of 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. Gen- 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 57 
 
 tiles as they were, to enlighten this benighted 
 portion 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 5 
 translating the Word of God. This hope and 
 trust were far dearer to him than anything that 
 earth could offer. 
 
 Sometimes, while thus at work, he was visited 
 by learned men, who desired to know what 10 
 literary undertaking Mr. Eliot had in hand. 
 They, like himself, had been bred in the studious 
 cloisters of a university, and were supposed to 
 possess all the erudition which mankind has 
 hoarded up from age to age. Greek and Latin 15 
 were as familiar to them as the babble of their 
 childhood. Hebrew was like their mother 
 tongue. They had grown gray in study ; their 
 eyes were bleared with pouring over print and 
 manuscript by the light of the midnight lamj). 20 
 
 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 ! 
 the gray-headed men stammered over the long, 
 strange words, like a little child in his first 25 
 attempts to read. Then would the apostle 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," said he; "these are 
 
58 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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 skillfully 
 
 5 that it sounded like wild music. It seemed as if 
 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 
 
 10 of the red men liad been formed ; and they were 
 still heard to echo in it. 
 
 The lesson being over, Mr. Eliot would give the 
 Indian boy an apple or a cake, and bid him leap 
 forth into the open air which his free nature 
 
 15 loved. Tlie 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 
 
 2o Indian character so well, nor i:)ossessed so great 
 an influence over the New England tribes, as the 
 apostle did. His advice and assistance must 
 often have been valuable to his countrymen, in 
 their transactions with the Indians. Occasion- 
 
 25 ally, perhaps, the Governor and some of the 
 counselors came to visit Mr. Eliot. Perchance 
 they were seeking some method to circumvent 
 the forest people. They inquired, it may be, 
 how they could obtain i^ossession of such and 
 such a tract of their rich land. Or they talked 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 59 
 
 of making the Indians their servants, as if God 
 had destined them for perpetual bondage to the 
 more powerful white man. 
 
 Perhaps, too, some warlike captain, dressed in 
 his buff-coat, witli a corselet beneath it, acconi- 5 
 panied the Governor and counselors. 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 x>i'esented. 10 
 
 But the apostle resisted both the craft of the 
 politician and the fierceness of the warrioj*. 
 
 "Treat these sons of the forest as men and 
 brethren," he would say, '^and let us endeavor 
 to make them Christians. Their forefathers were 15 
 of that chosen race whom God delivered from 
 Egyptian bondage. Perchance he has destined 
 us to deliver the children from the more cruel 
 bondage of ignorance and idolatry. Chiefly for 
 this end, it maj^ be, we were directed across the 20 
 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, 25 
 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^vould 
 follow. But how slight a consideration w\as this. 
 
6o GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 when he reflected that the eternal welfare of a 
 whole race of men depended upon his accom- 
 X)lishinent of the task which he had set himself ! 
 What if his hand should be palsied ? What if 
 
 5 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 heathenism forever. 
 
 Impelled by such thoughts as these, he sat 
 
 10 writing in the great chair when the pleasant sum- 
 mer breeze came in through his open casement ; 
 and also when the fire of forest logs sent np its 
 blaze and smoke, through the broad stone chim- 
 ney, into the wintry air. Before the earliest 
 
 15 bird sang in the morning the apostle'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 conld say to himself, 
 with a holy triumph : " The work is finished ! " 
 
 20 It was finished. Here was a Bible for the In- 
 dians. 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 
 
 25 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 of the j^rophets 
 of ancient days, and by those earliest apostles 
 and evangelists who had drawn their inspiration 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 6r 
 
 from the immediate presence of the Saviour. 
 They first liad preached truth and salvation to 
 the world. And Eliot, separated from them by 
 many centuries, yet full of the same spirit, had 
 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 
 Laurence, " that Mr. Eliot's labors have done no lo 
 good except 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 15 
 the language and the people are gone ! The In- 
 dian Bible itself is almost the only relic of both." 
 
 "Laurence," said his Grandfather, "if ever 
 you should doubt that man is capable of disinter- 
 ested zeal for his brother's good, then remember 20 
 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." 25 
 
 The tears gushed into the eyes of Laurence, 
 and he acknowledged that Eliot had not toiled 
 in vain. Little Alice put up her arms to Grand- 
 
62 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 father, and drew down his wliite head beside her 
 own golden locks. 
 
 "Grandfather," whispered she, "I want to 
 kiss good Mr. Eliot ! " 
 
 5 And, doubtless, good Mr. Eliot wonld gladly re- 
 ceive 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. Frnncis 
 had written a very beautiful Life of Eliot which 
 
 lo he advised 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 
 
 15 to convert to the Christian faith. 
 
 ''It must have been a great anguish to the 
 apostle," continued Grandfather, "to liear of 
 mutual slaughter and outrage between his own 
 countrymen and those for whom he felt the afl'ec- 
 
 2otion of a father. A few of the praying ludians 
 joined the followers of King Philip, A greater 
 number fought on the side of the English. In 
 the course of the war the little community of 
 red people whom Mr. Eliot had begun to civilize 
 
 25 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 Indian Bible." 
 
 "I do wish. Grandfather," cried Charle}^, 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 63 
 
 *' 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 ? " 
 
 "No, Charley," replied Grandfather, " I have 5 
 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." 10 
 
 "Who was the captain of the English?" 
 asked Charley. 
 
 "Their most noted captain was Benjamin 
 Church,— a very famous warrior," said Grand- 
 father. "But I assure you, Charley, that 15 
 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." 20 
 
 "Let Laurence be the apostle," said Charley 
 to himself, "and I will be the captain." 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 The children were now accustomed to as- 
 semble round Grandfather's chair at all their 
 unoccupied moments; and often it was a strik-25 
 ing picture to behold the whited-headed old sire, 
 
64 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 with this flowery wreath of young i^eoj^le around 
 him. When he talked to them, it was the 23ast 
 speaking to the present, or ratlier to the future,— 
 for the chiklren were of a generation which had 
 
 5 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 
 
 lofair, unworldly 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 
 
 15 the happy, youthful creatures who had hitherto 
 sported around his chair, without inquiring 
 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 
 
 20 rough breezes of the world, or ever ojDen them 
 in any clime. So sweet a child she was, that it 
 seemed flt her infancy should be immortal ! 
 
 But such repinings were merely flitting 
 shadows across the old man's heart. He had 
 
 25 faith enough to believe, and wisdom enough to 
 know, that the bloom of the flower would be 
 even holier and happier^ than its bud. Even 
 within himself — though Grandfather was now 
 at that period of life when the veil of mortality 
 is apt to hang heavily over the soul— still, in 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 65 
 
 his inmost being he was conscious of something 
 that he would not have exchanged for the best 
 happiness of chiklhood. It was a bliss to which 
 every sort of earthly experience — all that he had 
 enjoyed, or suffered, or seen, or heard, or acted, 5 
 with the broodings of his soul upon the whole — 
 had contributed somewhat. 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. 10 
 
 So Grandfather, with renewed cheerfulness, 
 continued his history of the chair, trusting that 
 a pro founder wisdom than his own would ex- 
 tract, from these flowers and weeds of Time, a 
 fragrance that might last beyond all time. 15 
 
 At this period of the story Grandfather threw 
 a glance backward as far as the year 1660. He 
 spoke of the ill-concealed reluctance with which 
 the Puritans in America had acknowledged the 
 sway of Charles the Second on his restoration 20 
 to his father's throne. When death had stricken 
 Oliver Cromwell, that mighty Protector had no 
 sincerer mourners than in New Enghmd. The 
 new king had been more than a year upon 
 the tlirone before his accession was proclaimed 25 
 in Boston ; although the neglect to perform the 
 ceremony might have subjected the rulers to the 
 charge of treason. 
 
 During the reign of Charles the Second, 
 however, the American colonies had but little 
 
66 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 reason to complain of liarsli or tyrannical treat- 
 ment. But when Charles died, in 1685, and was 
 succeeded by his brother James, the patriarchs 
 of New England began to tremble. King James 
 
 5 was a bigoted Roman Catholic, and was known 
 to be of an arbitrary temper. It was feared by 
 all Protestants, and chiefly by the Puritans, that 
 he would assume despotic power and attemj^t 
 to establish Popery throughout his dominions. 
 
 loOur forefathers felt that they had no security 
 either for their religion or their liberties. 
 
 The result proved that they had reason for 
 their apprehensions. King James caused the 
 charters of all the American colonies to be taken 
 
 15 away. The old charter of Massachusetts, which 
 the peox^le regarded as a holy thing and as the 
 foundation of all their liberties, was declared 
 void. The colonists were now no longer freemen ; 
 they were entirely dependent on the king's pleas- 
 
 2oure. At first, in 1685, King James appointed 
 Joseph Dudley, a native of Massachusetts, to be 
 president of New England. But soon afterward 
 Sir Edmund Andros, an officer of the English 
 army, arrived, with a commission to be Governor- 
 
 25 general of New England and New York. 
 
 The king had given such x)owers 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 represent- 
 atives, and consequently had no voice whatever 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 6 J 
 
 in the government, nor control over tlie measnres 
 that were acloj)ted. The counselors with whom 
 the Governor consulted on matters of state were 
 ai^pointed by himself. This sort of government 
 was no better than an absolute despotism. 5 
 
 "The people suffered much wrong while Sir 
 Edmund Andros ruled over them," continued 
 Grandfather; "and they were apprehensive of 
 much more. He had brought some soldiers with 
 him from England, who took possession of the lo 
 old fortress on Castle Island and of the fortifica- 
 tion on Fort Hill. Sometimes 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 15 
 slain or imprisoned." 
 
 " For what ?" inquired Charley. 
 
 " Because they were the leaders of the people, 
 Charley," said Grandfather. " A minister was a 
 more formidable man than a general in those 20 
 days. Well ; while these things were going on 
 in America, King James had so misgoverned 
 the people of England that they sent over to 
 Holland for the Prince of Orange. He had 
 married the king's daughter, and was therefore 25 
 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 the 
 Third. Poor old King James made his escape to 
 France." 
 
68 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 Grandfather told how, at the first intelligence 
 of the landing of the Prince of Orange in Eng- 
 land, the people of Massachusetts rose in their 
 strength and overthrew the government of Sir 
 
 5 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 
 
 10 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 intimate companion of all those excel- 
 
 15 lent and famous men who laid the founda- 
 tion of our country. They were all gone before 
 him to the grave ; and Bradstreet was the last 
 of the Puritans." 
 Grandfather paused a moment and smiled, as 
 
 2oif he had something very interesting to tell his 
 auditors. He then proceeded : 
 
 " And now, Laurence, — now Clara, — now, 
 Charley, — now, my dear little Alice,— what chair 
 do you think had been placed in the council 
 
 25 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 telling you the history ? " 
 
 "I am glad to hear it, with all my heart!" 
 cried Charley, after a shout of delight. "I 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 69 
 
 thought Grandfather had quite forgotten the 
 chair." 
 
 "It was a solemn and affecting sight," said 
 Grandfather, "when this venerable patriarch, 
 with his white beard flowing down upon his 5 
 breast, took his seat in his Chair of State. 
 Within his remembrance, and even since his 
 mature age, the site where now stood the pox)u- 
 lous town had been a wild and forest-covered 
 peninsula. The province, now so fertile and 10 
 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 15 
 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 brethren had 
 gone before him." 
 
 "Were the former Governors all dead and 20 
 gone ? " asked Laurence. 
 
 " All of them," replied Grandfather. " Win- 
 throp 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 25 
 reign of Charles the Second. And Haynes, Dud- 
 ley, Bellingliam, and Leverett, who had all been 
 Governors of Massachusetts, were now likewise 
 in their graves. Old Simon Bradstreet was the 
 sole representative of that departed brother- 
 
70 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 hood. There was no other public man remain- 
 ing to connect the ancient system of government 
 and manners with the new system wliich was 
 about to take its jjkice. The era of the Puritans 
 
 5 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 
 
 10 old Governors should have his statue set up in 
 our State House, sculptured out of the hardest 
 of New England granite." 
 
 "It would not be amiss, Laurence," said 
 Grandfather ; " but perhaiDs clay, or some other 
 
 15 perishable material, might suffice for some of 
 their successors. But let us go back to our 
 chair. It was occupied by Governor Brads treet 
 from April, 1689, until May, 1692. Sir William 
 Phips then arrived in Boston, with a new char- 
 
 2oter from King William and a commission to be 
 Governor." 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 "And what became of the chair?" inquired 
 Clara. 
 
 "The outward aspect of our chair," replied 
 
 25 Grandfather, " was now somewhat the worse for 
 
 its long and arduous services. It was considered 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR n 
 
 hardly magnificent enough to be allowed to keep 
 its i)lace in the council chamber of Massachu- 
 setts. In fact, it was banished as an article of 
 useless lumber. But Sir William Phips hap- 
 pened to see it, and, being much pleased with its 5 
 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 !" 10 
 interrupted Charley, in great Avonderment. 
 "And did Sir William Phips put in these screws 
 with his own hands 1 I am sure he did it beau- 
 tifully ! But how came a Governor to know how 
 to mend a chair ? " 15 
 
 "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 20 
 tale of 
 
 THE SUNKEN TREASURE 
 
 Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a 
 handsome, old-fashioned room, with a large, open 
 cupboard at one end, in which is displayed a 
 magnificent gold cup, with some other splendid 25 
 articles of gold and silver plate. In another part 
 of the room, opposite to a tall looking-glass, 
 stands our beloved chair, newly polished, and 
 
72 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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 nortli- 
 
 5 ern tempests and blackened by the burning sun 
 of the West Indies. He wears an immense peri- 
 wig, flowing down over his shoulders. His coat 
 has a wide embroidery of golden foliage ; and 
 his waistcoat, likewise, is all flowered over and 
 
 lo bedizened with gold. His red, rough hands, 
 which have done many a good day's work with 
 tlie hammer and adze, are half covered by the 
 delicate lace ruffles at his wrists. On a table lies 
 his silver-hilted sword ; and in the corner of the 
 
 15 room stands his gold-headed cane, made of a 
 beautifully polished West India wood. 
 
 Somewhat such an aspect as this did Sir Wil- 
 liam Phips present when he sat in Grandfather's 
 chair after the king had appointed him Governor 
 
 20 of Massachusetts. Truly, there was need that 
 the old chair should be varnished and decorated 
 with a crimson cushion in order to make it suit- 
 able for such a magnificent looking personage. 
 But Sir William Phips had not always worn a 
 
 25 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 boyhood and youth. Until 
 he had grown to be a man, he did not even know 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 73 
 
 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 5 
 came to Boston, and soon afterward was married 
 to a widow lady, who had property enough to 
 set him up in business. It was not long, how- 
 ever, before he lost all the money that he had 
 acquired by his marriage, and became a poor 10 
 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 15 
 a fortune-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. 20 
 
 Several years passed away, and William Phips 
 had not yet gained the riches which he prom- 
 ised 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 25 
 had been cast away near the Bahama 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. 
 
74 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 He did notsucceed, however, in fishing up gold 
 and silver enough to pay the expenses of his 
 voyage. 
 
 But, before he returned, he was told of another 
 5 Sx)anisli 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, nobody had thought of the possi- 
 
 lobility 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 resolved 
 
 15 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 
 
 20 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 Span- 
 ish gold. He appointed William Phips to be 
 captain of a vessel called the Rose Algier, car- 
 
 25rying eighteen guns and ninety-five men. So 
 now he was Captain Phips of the English Navy. 
 Captain Phips sailed from England in the 
 Rose Algler^ 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 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 75 
 
 deep that it is no easy matter to discover the 
 exact spot Avhere a sunken vessel lies. The pros- 
 pect of success seemed very small ; and most 
 people woukl have thought that Captain Phips 
 was as far from having money enough to build 5 
 a " fair brick house " as he was while he tended 
 sheep. 
 
 The seamen of the Rose Algier became dis- 
 couraged, and gave up all hope of making their 
 fortunes by discovering the Spanish wreck. 10 
 They wanted to compel Captain Phips to turn 
 pirate. There was a much better prospect, they 
 thought, of growing rich by jDlundering vessels 
 which still sailed in the sea than by seeking for a 
 ship that had lain beneath the waves full half a 15 
 century. They broke out in open mutiny, but 
 were finally mastered by Phips, and compelled 
 to obey his orders. It would have been danger- 
 ous, however, to continue much longer at sea 
 with such a crew of mutinous sailors ; and, be- 20 
 sides, the Rose Algier was leaky and unsea- 
 worthy. So Captain Phips judged it best to 
 return to England. 
 
 Before leaving the West Indies, he met with 
 a Spaniard, an old man, wdio remembered the 25 
 wreck of the Spanish ship, and gave him direc- 
 tions 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 
 
76 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 vessel and send liini back again to the West 
 Indies. But King James, who had probably 
 expected that the Rose Algier would return \ 
 laden with gold, refused to have anything more 
 
 5 to do with the affair. Pliips 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 ' 
 
 lofrom England, 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 
 
 15 vessel could safely venture. When it Avas 
 finished, the captain sent several men in it to 
 examine the spot where the Spanish sliix) was 
 said to have been wrecked. They were accom- 
 panied by some Indians, who were skillful divers, 
 
 20 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 
 
 25 was so transparent tliat it seemed as if the}^ 
 could have seen the gold and silver at the 
 bottom, had there been any of those precious 
 metals there. Nothing, however, could they 
 see ; nothing more valuable than a curious sea 
 shrub, which was growing beneath the water, in 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 77 
 
 a crevice of the 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 
 Avere gold. 
 
 " We won't go back empty-handed," cried an 5 
 English 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 And!" 
 
 Down plunged the diver, and soon rose drip- 10 
 ping from the water, holding the sea shrub in 
 his hand. Bat he had learnt some news at the 
 bottom of the sea. 
 
 "There are some ship's guns," said he, the 
 moment he had drawn breath, "some great 15 
 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, 20 
 so many years before. The other Indian divers 
 immediately plunged over the boat's side and 
 sw^ani headlong down, groping among the rocks 
 and sunken cannon. In a few moments one of 
 tliem rose above the water with a heavy lump of 25 
 silver in his arms. That 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. 
 
78 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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 
 
 5 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 
 
 lo work, with iron rakes and great hooks and lines, 
 fishing for gold and silver at the 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 
 
 15 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 grasp- 
 
 2oing the precious cuj), and was drawn uj) 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 wonder 
 
 25 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 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 79 
 
 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 5 
 with no such thoughts as these. After a day or 
 two they lighted on another jDart 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 10 
 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 15 
 deck of the vessel. 
 
 The whole value of the recovered treasure, 
 plate, bullion, precious stones, and all, was esti- 
 mated at more than two millions of dollars. It 
 was dangerous even to look at such a vast 20 
 amount of wealth. A sea captain, who had 
 assisted Phips in the enterprise, utterly lost his 
 reason at the sight of it. He died two years 
 afterward, still raving about the treasures that 
 lie at the bottom of the sea. It would have been 25 
 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 
 
So GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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. 
 
 5 Phips 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 
 
 lothe treasure to themselves. 
 
 The captain's share, however, was enough to 
 make him comfortable for the rest of his days. 
 It also enabled him to fulfill his promise to his 
 wife, by building a "fair brick house" in the 
 
 15 Green Lane of Boston. The Duke of Albemarle 
 sent Mrs. Phips a magnificent gold cup, Avorth 
 at least five thousand dollars. Before Captain 
 Phips left London, King James made him a 
 knight ; so that, instead of the obscure sliip- 
 
 20 carpenter Avho had formerly dwelt among them, 
 the inhabitants of Boston welcomed him on his 
 return as the rich and famous Sir William 
 Phips. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 8 1 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 •'Sir William Phips," continued Grand- 
 father, " was too active and adventurous a man 
 to sit still in the quiet enjoyment of his good 
 fortune. In the year 1690 he went on a military 
 expedition against the French colonies in 5 
 America, conquered the whole j)rovince 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. 10 
 
 ''Ask Laurence what he thinks," replied 
 Grandfather, with a smile. "Well; in the 
 same year. Sir William took command of an 
 expedition against Quebec, but did not succeed 
 in capturing the city. In 1692, being then in 15 
 London, King William the Third appointed 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 20 
 chair, we will here bid him farew^ell. 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 25 
 Phips, was eager to know how he had acted and 
 what happened to him while he held the office 
 
82 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 of Governor. But Grandfather had made up his 
 mind to tell no more stories for the present. 
 
 "Possibly, one of these days, I may go on 
 with the adventures of the chair," said he. 
 
 5 "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 
 
 10 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 
 
 15 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, smil- 
 
 2oing. "We must write a book with some such 
 title as this, — Memoirs of my owi^ Times, by 
 Grandfather's Chair." 
 
 "That would be beautiful ! " exclaimed Lau- 
 rence, clapping his hands. 
 
 25 "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 famil- 
 iarly in the midst of human interests, and is 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 83 
 
 witness to the most secret and confidential inter- 
 course 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 5 
 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 10 
 place of Joy, but not to retain it long. The im- 
 agination 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 15 
 chair must have a deeper history than a Chair of 
 State." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " cried Clara, expressing a woman's 
 feeling on the point in question; " the history 
 of a country is not nearly so interesting as that 20 
 of a single family would be." 
 
 "But the history of a country is more easily 
 told," said Grandfather. " So, if we proceed 
 with our narrative of the chair, I shall still con- 
 fine myself to its connection with public events." 25 
 
 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 occupants, one after another, 
 
§4 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 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 
 
 5 out of its arms for very weakness ; then Roger 
 Williams, in his cloak and band, earnest, ener- 
 getic, and benevolent ; then the figure of Anne 
 Hutchinson, with the like gesture as when she 
 presided at the assemblages of women ; then the 
 
 lodark, intellectual face of Yane, "young in years, 
 but in sage counsel old." Next would have 
 appeared the successive Governors, Winthrop, 
 Dudley, Bellingham, and Endicott, who sat in 
 the chair while it Avas a Chair of State. Then 
 
 15 its ample seat would have been pressed by the 
 comfortable, rotund corporation of the honest 
 mint-master. Then the half-frenzied shape of 
 Mary Dyer, the persecuted Quaker woman, clad 
 in sackcloth and ashes, would have rested in it 
 
 20 for a moment. Then the holy apostolic form of 
 Eliot would have sanctified it. Then would have 
 arisen, like the shade of departed Puritanism, 
 the venerable dignity of the white-bearded Gov- 
 ernor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the gorgeous crim- 
 
 25 son cushion of Grandfather's chair, would have 
 shone the purple and golden magnificence of Sir 
 William Phix)s. 
 
 But all these, with the other historic person- 
 ages in the midst of whom the chair had so often 
 stood, had i^assed, both in substance and shadow, 
 
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 85 
 
 from the scene of ages ! Yet here stood the 
 chair, with the old Lincoln 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 when the thrones i 
 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, i 
 a great favorite with all the children, leaped in 
 at the open window. Perceiving that Grand- 
 father's chair was empty, and having often be- 
 fore experienced its comforts, puss laid herself 
 quietly down upon the cushion. Laurence, Clara, 2 
 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 Grand- 2 
 father's Chair ! " 
 
 THE END 
 
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 The Story of the German Iliad, 
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