es, and several other clergymen, were among the most noted
loyalists," answered Grandfather.

"I wish the people had tarred and feathered every man of them!" cried
Charley.

"That wish is very wrong, Charley," said Grandfather. "You must not think
that there was no integrity and honor, except among those who stood up for
the freedom of America. For aught I know, there was quite as much of these
qualities on one side as on the other. Do you see nothing admirable in a
faithful adherence to an unpopular cause? Can you not respect that
principle of loyalty, which made the royalists give up country, friends,
fortune, every thing, rather than be false to their king? It was a
mistaken principle; but many of them cherished it honorably, and were
martyrs to it."

"Oh, I was wrong!" said Charley, ingenuously. "And I would risk my life,
rather than one of those good old royalists should be tarred and
feathered."

"The time is now come, when we may judge fairly of them," continued
Grandfather. "Be the good and true men among them honored; for they were
as much our countrymen as the patriots were. And, thank Heaven! our
country need not be ashamed of her sons--of most of them, at least--whatever
side they took in the revolutionary contest."

Among the portraits was one of King George the Third. Little Alice clapped
her hands, and seemed pleased with the bluff good nature of his
physiognomy. But Laurence thought it strange, that a man with such a face,
indicating hardly a common share of intellect, should have had influence
enough on human affairs, to convulse the world with war. Grandfather
observed, that this poor king had always appeared to him one of the most
unfortunate persons that ever lived. He was so honest and conscientious,
that, if he had been only a private man, his life would probably have been
blameless and happy. But his was that worst of fortunes, to be placed in a
station far beyond his abilities.

"And so," said Grandfather, "his life, while he retained what intellect
Heaven had gifted him with, was one long mortification. At last, he grew
crazed with care and trouble. For nearly twenty years, the monarch of
England was confined as a madman. In his old age, too, God took away his
eyesight; so that his royal palace was nothing to him but a dark, lonesome
prison-house."

Chapter VII

"Our old chair," resumed Grandfather, "did not now stand in the midst of a
gay circle of British officers. The troops