“Dear Grandfather,” repeated the little girl, more earnestly, “do talk to us again about your chair.”

Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice, had been attracted to other objects, for two or three months past.  They had sported in the gladsome sunshine of the present, and so had forgotten the shadowy region of the past, in the midst of which stood Grandfather’s chair.  But now, in the autumnal twilight, illuminated by the flickering blaze of the wood-fire, they looked at the old chair and thought that it had never before worn such an interesting aspect.  There it stood, in the venerable majesty of more than two hundred years.  The light from the hearth quivered upon the flowers and foliage, that were wrought into its oaken back; and the lion’s head at the summit seemed almost to move its jaws and shake its mane.

“Does little Alice speak for all of you?” asked Grandfather.  “Do you wish me to go on with the adventures of the chair?”

“Oh, yes, yes, Grandfather!” cried Clara.  “The dear old chair!  How strange that we should have forgotten it so long!”

“Oh, pray begin, Grandfather,” said Laurence; “for I think, when we talk about old times, it should be in the early evening before the candles are lighted.  The shapes of the famous persons, who once sat in the chair, will be more apt to come back, and be seen among us, in this glimmer and pleasant gloom, than they would in the vulgar daylight.  And, besides, we can make pictures of all that you tell us, among the glowing embers and white ashes.”

Our friend Charley, too, thought the evening the best time to hear Grandfather’s stories, because he could not then be playing out of doors.  So, finding his young auditors unanimous in their petition, the good old gentleman took up the narrative of the historic chair, at the point where he had dropt it.

Chapter II

“You recollect, my dear children,” said Grandfather, “that we took leave of the chair in 1692, while it was occupied by Sir William Phips.  This fortunate treasure-seeker, you will remember, had come over from England, with King William’s commission to be Governor of Massachusetts.  Within the limits of this province were now included the old colony of Plymouth, and the territories of Maine and Nova Scotia.  Sir William Phips had likewise brought a new charter from the king, which served instead of a constitution, and set forth the method in which the province was to be governed.”

“Did the new charter allow the people all their former liberties?” inquired Laurence.

“No,” replied Grandfather.  “Under the first charter, the people had been the source of all power.  Winthrop, Endicott, Bradstreet, and the rest of them, had been governors by the choice of the people, without any interference of the king.  But henceforth the governor was to hold his station solely by the king’s appointment, and during his pleasure; and the same was the case with the lieutenant-governor, and some other high officers.  The people, however, were still allowed to choose representatives; and the governor’s council was chosen by the general court.”