“But,” added Grandfather, turning to Laurence, “the Lieutenant-Governor’s castles were built nowhere but among the red embers of the fire, before which he was sitting.  And, just as he had constructed a baronial residence for himself and his posterity, the fire rolled down upon the hearth, and crumbled it to ashes!”

Grandfather now looked at his watch, which hung within a beautiful little ebony Temple, supported by four Ionic columns.  He then laid his hand on the golden locks of little Alice, whose head had sunk down upon the arm of our illustrious chair.

“To bed, to bed, dear child!” said he.  “Grandfather has put you to sleep, already, by his stories about these famous old people!”

Part III

Chapter I

On the evening of New Year’s day, Grandfather was walking to and fro, across the carpet, listening to the rain which beat hard against the curtained windows.  The riotous blast shook the casement, as if a strong man were striving to force his entrance into the comfortable room.  With every puff of the wind, the fire leaped upward from the hearth, laughing and rejoicing at the shrieks of the wintry storm.

Meanwhile, Grandfather’s chair stood in its customary place by the fireside.  The bright blaze gleamed upon the fantastic figures of its oaken back, and shone through the open-work, so that a complete pattern was thrown upon the opposite side of the room.  Sometimes, for a moment or two, the shadow remained immovable, as if it were painted on the wall.  Then, all at once, it began to quiver, and leap, and dance, with a frisky motion.  Anon, seeming to remember that these antics were unworthy of such a dignified and venerable chair, it suddenly stood still.  But soon it began to dance anew.

“Only see how grandfather’s chair is dancing!” cried little Alice.

And she ran to the wall, and tried to catch hold of the flickering shadow; for to children of five years old, a shadow seems almost as real as a substance.

“I wish,” said Clara, “Grandfather would sit down in the chair, and finish its history.”

If the children had been looking at Grandfather, they would have noticed that he paused in his walk across the room, when Clara made this remark.  The kind old gentleman was ready and willing to resume his stories of departed times.  But he had resolved to wait till his auditors should request him to proceed, in order that they might find the instructive history of the chair a pleasure, and not a task.

“Grandfather,” said Charley, “I am tired to death of this dismal rain, and of hearing the wind roar in the chimney.  I have had no good time all day.  It would be better to hear stories about the chair, than to sit doing nothing, and thinking of nothing.”