hat his stories must close here.
"Samuel Adams died in 1803, at the age of above threescore and ten. He was
a great patriot but a poor man. At his death, he left scarcely property
enough to pay the expenses of his funeral. This precious chair, among his
other effects, was sold at auction; and your Grandfather, who was then in
the strength of his years, became the purchaser."

Laurence, with a mind full of thoughts, that struggled for expression, but
could find none, looked steadfastly at the chair.

He had now learned all its history, yet was not satisfied.

"Oh, how I wish that the chair could speak!" cried he. "After its long
intercourse with mankind--after looking upon the world for ages--what
lessons of golden wisdom it might utter! It might teach a private person
how to lead a good and happy life--or a statesman how to make his country
prosperous!"

Chapter XI

Grandfather was struck by Laurence's idea, that the historic chair should
utter a voice, and thus pour forth the collected wisdom of two centuries.
The old gentleman had once possessed no inconsiderable share of fancy;
and, even now, its fading sunshine occasionally glimmered among his more
sombre reflections.

As the history of the chair had exhausted all his facts, Grandfather
determined to have recourse to fable. So, after warning the children that
they must not mistake this story for a true one, he related what we shall
call,--

GRANDFATHER'S DREAM

Laurence and Clara, where were you last night? Where were you, Charley,
and dear little Alice? You had all gone to rest, and left old Grandfather
to meditate alone, in his great chair. The lamp had grown so dim, that its
light hardly illuminated the alabaster shade. The wood fire had crumbled
into heavy embers, among which the little flames danced, and quivered, and
sported about, like fairies.

And here sat Grandfather, all by himself. He knew that it was bedtime; yet
he could not help longing to hear your merry voices, or to hold a
comfortable chat with some old friend; because then his pillow would be
visited by pleasant dreams. But, as neither children nor friends were at
hand, Grandfather leaned back in the great chair, and closed his eyes, for
the sake of meditating more profoundly.

And, when Grandfather's meditations had grown very profound indeed, he
fancied that he heard a sound over his head, as if somebody were preparing
to speak.

"Hem!" it said, in a dry, husky tone.