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Lowestoft was a frequent attraction for a youthful ramble—perhaps almost too far, unless one could manage to get a lift in a little yellow-painted black-bodied vehicle called a whisky, which was grandfather’s property, and into the shafts of which could be put any spare quadruped, whether donkey, or mule, or pony, it mattered little, and which afforded a considerable relief when a trip as far as Lowestoft was determined on.
He looked eagerly in Grandfather’s face; and even Charley, a bold, brisk, restless little fellow of nine, sat himself down on the carpet, and resolved to be quiet for at least ten minutes, should the story last so long. Meantime, little Alice was already asleep; so Grandfather, being much pleased with such an attentive audience, began to talk about matters that had happened long ago.
That same year, all deserted their earth huts, and collected in a village; but, even there, there was no peace, on account of that accursed Basavriuk. My late grandfather’s aunt said that he was particularly angry with her, because she had abandoned her former tavern, and tried with all his might to revenge himself upon her.
The happiness of former days was a possession forever. And there was something in the mingled sorrow of his lifetime, that became akin to happiness, after being long treasured in the depths of his heart. There it underwent a change, and grew more precious than pure gold. And now came the children, somewhat aweary with their wild play, and sought the quiet enjoyment of Grandfather’s talk.
But Pownall did not remain long in Massachusetts. In 1759, he was sent to be governor of South Carolina. In thus exchanging one government for another, I suppose he felt no regret, except at the necessity of leaving Grandfather’s chair behind him." "He might have taken it to South Carolina," observed Clara.
At last the children grew weary of their sports; because a summer afternoon is like a long lifetime to the young. So they came into the room together, and clustered round Grandfather’s great chair. Little Alice, who was hardly five years old, took the privilege of the youngest, and climbed his knee.
Little Alice sat on Grandfather’s foot-stool, with a picture-book in her hand; and, for every picture, the child was telling Grandfather a story. Charley was too big a boy, of course, to care any thing about little Alice’s stories, although Grandfather appeared to listen with a good deal of interest.
Accordingly, Grandfather told the children a story, to which, for want of a better title, we shall give that of One day, in 1721, Doctor Cotton Mather sat in his library, reading a book that had been published by the Royal Society of London. But, every few moments, he laid the book upon the table, and leaned back in Grandfather’s chair, with an aspect of deep care and disquietude.
General Gage, an officer of the Old French War, and since commander-in-chief of the British forces in America, was appointed governor in his stead. One of his first acts, was to make Salem, instead of Boston, the metropolis of Massachusetts, by summoning the General Court to meet there. According to Grandfather’s description, this was the most gloomy time that Massachusetts had ever seen.
"Grandfather," cried little Alice, clapping her hands, "you must dream a new dream, every night, about our chair!" Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, said the same. But the good old gentleman shook his head, and declared that here ended the history, real or fabulous, of GRANDFATHER’S CHAIR.
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