“Why, Grandfather, here is the very arm!” interrupted Charley, in great wonderment.  “And did Sir William Phips put in these screws with his own hands?  I am sure, he did it beautifully!  But how came a governor to know how to mend a chair?”

“I will tell you a story about the early life of Sir William Phips,” said Grandfather.  “You will then perceive, that he well knew how to use his hands.”

So Grandfather related the wonderful and true tale of

THE SUNKEN TREASURE

Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a handsome, old-fashioned room, with a large, open cupboard at one end, in which is displayed a magnificent gold cup, with some other splendid articles of gold and silver plate.  In another part of the room, opposite to a tall looking-glass, stands our beloved chair, newly polished, and adorned with a gorgeous cushion of crimson velvet tufted with gold.

In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy frame, whose face has been roughened by northern tempests, and blackened by the burning sun of the West Indies.  He wears an immense periwig, flowing down over his shoulders.  His coat has a wide embroidery of golden foliage; and his waistcoat, likewise, is all flowered over and bedizened with gold.  His red, rough hands, which have done many a good day’s work with the hammer and adze, are half covered by the delicate lace ruffles at his wrists.  On a table lies his silver-hilted sword, and in a corner of the room stands his gold-headed cane, made of a beautifully polished West Indian wood.

Somewhat such an aspect as this, did Sir William Phips present, when he sat in Grandfather’s chair, after the king had appointed him governor of Massachusetts.  Truly, there was need that the old chair should be varnished, and decorated with a crimson cushion, in order to make it suitable for such a magnificent looking personage.

But Sir William Phips had not always worn a gold embroidered coat, nor always sat so much at his ease as he did in Grandfather’s chair.  He was a poor man’s son, and was born in the province of Maine, where he used to tend sheep upon the hills, in his boyhood and youth.  Until he had grown to be a man, he did not even know how to read and write.  Tired of tending sheep, he next apprenticed himself to a ship-carpenter, and spent about four years in hewing the crooked limbs of oak trees into knees for vessels.

In 1673, when he was twenty-two years old, he came to Boston, and soon afterwards was married to a widow lady, who had property enough to set him up in business.  It was not long, however, before he lost all the money that he had acquired by his marriage, and became a poor man again.  Still, he was not discouraged.  He often told his wife that, some time or other, he should be very rich, and would build a “fair brick house” in the Green Lane of Boston.

Do not suppose, children, that he had been to a 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.