“It was kept here for Grandfather and me to sit in together,” said little Alice, “and for Grandfather to tell stories about.”

“And Grandfather is very glad of such a companion, and such a theme,” said the old gentleman, with a smile.  “Well, Laurence, if our oaken chair, like the wooden Palladium of Troy, was connected with the country’s fate, yet there appears to have been no supernatural obstacle to its removal from the Province House.  In 1760, Sir Francis Bernard, who had been governor of New Jersey, was appointed to the same office in Massachusetts.  He looked at the old chair, and thought it quite too shabby to keep company with a new set of mahogany chairs, and an aristocratic sofa, which had just arrived from London.  He therefore ordered it to be put away in the garret.”

The children were loud in their exclamations against this irreverent conduct of Sir Francis Bernard.  But Grandfather defended him, as well as he could.  He observed, that it was then thirty years since the chair had been beautified by Governor Belcher.  Most of the gilding was worn off by the frequent scourings which it had undergone, beneath the hands of a black slave.  The damask cushion, once so splendid, was now squeezed out of all shape, and absolutely in tatters, so many were the ponderous gentlemen who had deposited their weight upon it, during these thirty years.

Moreover, at a council held by the Earl of Loudon with the governors of New England, in 1757, his lordship, in a moment of passion, had kicked over the chair with his military boot.  By this unprovoked and unjustifiable act, our venerable friend had suffered a fracture of one of its rungs.

“But,” said Grandfather, “our chair, after all, was not destined to spend the remainder of its days in the inglorious obscurity of a garret.  Thomas Hutchinson, lieutenant-governor of the province, was told of Sir Francis Bernard’s design.  This gentleman was more familiar with the history of New England than any other man alive.  He knew all the adventures and vicissitudes through which the old chair had passed, and could have told, as accurately as your own Grandfather, who were the personages that had occupied it.  Often, while visiting at the Province House, he had eyed the chair with admiration, and felt a longing desire to become the possessor of it.  He now waited upon Sir Francis Bernard, and easily obtained leave to carry it home.”

“And I hope,” said Clara, “he had it varnished and gilded anew.”

“No,” answered Grandfather.  “What Mr. Hutchinson desired was to restore the chair, as much as possible, to its original aspect, such as it had appeared, when it was first made out of the Earl of Lincoln’s oak-tree.  For this purpose he ordered it to be well scoured with soap and sand and polished with wax, and then provided it with a substantial leather cushion.  When all was completed to his mind, he sat down in the old chair, and began to write his History of Massachusetts.”