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Quiet was not restored, until Commodore Knowles had sent back the impressed men. This affair was a flash of spirit, that might have warned the English not to venture upon any oppressive measures against their colonial brethren." Peace being declared between France and England in 1748, the governor had now an opportunity to sit at his ease in Grandfather’s chair.
But what am I? Of whom, to whom, am I complaining? ’Tis plain, God willed it so. If I am to be lost, then so be it!” and he went straight to the tavern. My late grandfather’s aunt was somewhat surprised on seeing Petrus in the tavern, and at an hour when good men go to morning mass; and she stared at him as though in a dream, when he demanded a jug of brandy, about half a pailful.
The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences; and the knees of his smallclothes were buttoned with silver threepences. Thus attired, he sat with great dignity in Grandfather’s chair; and, being a portly old gentleman, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. On the opposite side of the room, between her bride-maids, sat Miss Betsey.
There was enough of the old Puritan spirit remaining, to cause most of the true sons of New England to look with horror upon such an attempt. Great exertions were made, to induce the king to remove the governor. Accordingly, in 1740, he was compelled to resign his office, and Grandfather’s chair into the bargain, to Mr. Shirley.
"There, son Sewell!" cried the honest mint-master, resuming his seat in Grandfather’s chair. "Take these shillings for my daughter’s portion. Use her kindly, and thank Heaven for her. It is not every wife that’s worth her weight in silver!" The children laughed heartily at this legend, and would hardly be convinced but that Grandfather had made it out of his own head.
Grandfather assented. "It was a stormy day," continued he. "The equinoctial gale blew violently, and scattered the yellow leaves of Liberty Tree all along the street. Mr. Oliver’s wig was dripping with water-drops, and he probably looked haggard, disconsolate, and humbled to the earth. Beneath the tree, in Grandfather’s chair,—our own venerable chair,—sat Mr. Richard Dana, a justice of the peace.
In the early twilight of Thanksgiving eve, came Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice, hand in hand, and stood in a semi-circle round Grandfather’s chair. They had been joyous, throughout that day of festivity, mingling together in all kinds of play, so that the house had echoed with their airy mirth. Grandfather, too, had been happy, though not mirthful.
"Really, Grandfather," observed Laurence, "this seems to be the most remarkable chair in the world. Its history cannot be told without intertwining it with the lives of distinguished men, and the great events that have befallen the country." "True, Laurence," replied Grandfather, smiling, "We must write a book, with some such title as this,—MEMOIRS OF MY OWN TIMES, BY GRANDFATHER’S CHAIR."
One night, a destructive little instrument, called a hand-grenade, was thrown into Cotton Mather’s window, and rolled under Grandfather’s chair. It was supposed to be filled with gunpowder, the explosion of which would have blown the poor minister to atoms. This is no strange thing in human experience.
They dressed themselves in Turkish and Tartar garments. All upon them glowed like a conflagration ... and then they began to joke and play pranks.... Well, then away with the saints! An amusing thing happened to my grandfather’s aunt, who was at this wedding. She was dressed in a voluminous Tartar robe, and, wineglass in hand, was entertaining the company.
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