Then began the work of destruction.  The carved and polished mahogany tables were shattered with heavy clubs, and hewn to splinters with axes.  The marble hearths and mantel pieces were broken.  The volumes of Hutchinson’s library, so precious to a studious man, were torn out of their covers, and the leaves sent flying out of the windows.  Manuscripts, containing secrets of our country’s history, which are now lost forever, were scattered to the winds.

The old ancestral portraits, whose fixed countenances looked down on the wild scene, were rent from the walls.  The mob triumphed in their downfall and destruction, as if these pictures of Hutchinson’s forefathers had committed the same offences as their descendant.  A tall looking-glass, which had hitherto presented a reflection of the enraged and drunken multitude, was now smashed into a thousand fragments.  We gladly dismiss the scene from the mirror of our fancy.

Before morning dawned, the walls of the house were all that remained.  The interior was a dismal scene of ruin.  A shower pattered in at the broken windows, and when Hutchinson and his family returned, they stood shivering in the same room, where the last evening had seen them so peaceful and happy.

“Grandfather,” said Laurence indignantly, “if the people acted in this manner, they were not worthy of even so much liberty as the king of England was willing to allow them.”

“It was a most unjustifiable act, like many other popular movements at that time,” replied Grandfather.  “But we must not decide against the justice of the people’s cause, merely because an excited mob was guilty of outrageous violence.  Besides, all these things were done in the first fury of resentment.  Afterwards, the people grew more calm, and were more influenced by the counsel of those wise and good men who conducted them safely and gloriously through the Revolution.”

Little Alice, with tears in her blue eyes, said that she hoped the neighbors had not let Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson and his family be homeless in the street, but had taken them into their houses, and been kind to them.  Cousin Clara, recollecting the perilous situation of our beloved chair, inquired what had become of it.

“Nothing was heard of our chair for sometime afterwards,” answered Grandfather.  “One day in September, the same Andrew Oliver, of whom I before told you, was summoned to appear at high noon, under Liberty Tree.  This was the strangest summons that had ever been heard of; for it was issued in the name of the whole people, who thus took upon themselves the authority of a sovereign power.  Mr. Oliver dared not disobey.  Accordingly, at the appointed hour, he went, much against his will, to Liberty Tree.”

Here Charley interposed a remark that poor Mr. Oliver found but little liberty under Liberty Tree.  Grandfather assented.