sat silently
in the great chair. Vanished scenes had been pictured in the air. The
forms of departed friends had visited him. Voices to be heard no more on
earth had sent an echo from the infinite and the eternal. These shadows,
if such they were, seemed almost as real to him as what was actually
present,--as the merry shouts and laughter of the children,--as their
figures, dancing like sunshine before his eyes.

He felt that the past was not taken from him. 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. The good old gentleman
rubbed his eyes and smiled round upon them all. He was glad, as most
aged people are, to find that he was yet of consequence, and could give
pleasure to the world. After being so merry all day long, did these
children desire to hear his sober talk? Oh, then, old Grandfather had
yet a place to fill among living men,--or at least among boys and girls!

"Begin quick, Grandfather," cried little Alice; "for pussy wants to hear
you."

And truly our yellow friend, the cat, lay upon the hearth-rug, basking
in the warmth of the fire, pricking up her ears, and turning her head
from the children to Grandfather, and from Grandfather to the children
as if she felt herself very sympathetic with them all. A loud purr, like
the singing of a tea-kettle or the hum of a spinning-wheel, testified
that she was as comfortable and happy as a cat could be. For puss had
feasted; and therefore, like Grandfather and the children, had kept a
good Thanksgiving.

"Does pussy want to hear me?" said Grandfathers smiling. "Well, we must
please pussy, if we can."

And so he took up the history of the chair from the epoch of the peace
of 1748. By one of the provisions of the treaty, Louisburg, which the
New-Englanders had been at so much pains to take, was restored to the
King of France.

The French were afraid that, unless their colonies should be better
defended than heretofore, another war might deprive them of the whole.
Almost as soon as peace was declared, therefore, they began to build
strong fortifications in the interior of North America. It was strange
to behold these warlik