But, all these, with the other historic personages, in the midst of whom the chair had so often stood, had passed, both in substance and shadow, from the scene of ages.  Yet here stood the chair, with the old 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 has stood firm when the thrones of kings were overturned!” thought Laurence.  “Its oaken frame has proved stronger than many frames of government!”

More the thoughtful and imaginative boy might have mused; but now a large yellow cat, a great favorite with all the children, leaped in at the open window.  Perceiving that Grandfather’s chair was empty, and having often before experienced its comforts, puss laid herself quietly down upon the cushion.  Laurence, Clara, Charley, and little Alice, all laughed at the idea of such a successor to the worthies of old times.

“Pussy,” said little Alice, putting out her hand, into which the cat laid a velvet paw, “you look very wise.  Do tell us a story about grandfather’s chair!”

Part II

Chapter I

“O Grandfather,” dear Grandfather, cried little Alice, “pray tell us some more stories about your chair!”

How long a time had fled, since the children had felt any curiosity to hear the sequel of this venerable chair’s adventures!  Summer was now past and gone, and the better part of Autumn likewise.  Dreary, chill November was howling, out of doors, and vexing the atmosphere with sudden showers of wintry rain, or sometimes with gusts of snow, that rattled like small pebbles against the windows.

When the weather began to grow cool, Grandfather’s chair had been removed from the summer parlor into a smaller and snugger room.  It now stood by the side of a bright blazing wood-fire.  Grandfather loved a wood-fire, far better than a grate of glowing anthracite, or than the dull heat of an invisible furnace, which seems to think that it has done its duty in merely warming the house.  But the wood-fire is a kindly, cheerful, sociable spirit, sympathizing with mankind, and knowing that to create warmth is but one of the good offices which are expected from it.  Therefore it dances on the hearth, and laughs broadly through the room, and plays a thousand antics, and throws a joyous glow over all the faces that encircle it.

In the twilight of the evening, the fire grew brighter and more cheerful.  And thus, perhaps, there was something in Grandfather’s heart, that cheered him most with its warmth and comfort in the gathering twilight of old age.  He had been gazing at the red embers, as intently as if his past life were all pictured there, or as if it were a prospect of the future world, when little Alice’s voice aroused him.