ry of our quiet
and comfortable old chair. But to-morrow evening, Laurence, Clara, and
yourself, and dear little Alice too, shall visit the Diorama of Bunker
Hill. There you shall see the whole business, the burning of Charlestown
and all, with your own eyes, and hear the cannon and musketry with your
own ears."

CHAPTER VIII. THE SIEGE OF BOSTON.

THE next evening but one, when the children had given Grandfather a full
account of the Diorama of Bunker Hill, they entreated him not to keep
them any longer in suspense about the fate of his chair. The reader will
recollect that, at the last accounts, it had trotted away upon its poor
old legs nobody knew whither. But, before gratifying their curiosity,
Grandfather found it necessary to say something about public events.

The Continental Congress, which was assembled at Philadelphia, was
composed of delegates from all the colonies. They had now appointed
George Washington, of Virginia, to be commander-in-chief of all the
American armies. He was, at that time, a member of Congress; but
immediately left Philadelphia, and began his journey to Massachusetts.
On the 3d of July, 1775, he arrived at Cambridge, and took command of
the troops which were besieging General Gage.

"O Grandfather," exclaimed Laurence, "it makes my heart throb to think
what is coming now. We are to see General Washington himself."

The children crowded around Grandfather and looked earnestly into his
face. Even little Alice opened her sweet blue eyes, with her lips apart,
and almost held her breath to listen; so instinctive is the reverence of
childhood for the father of his country.

Grandfather paused a moment; for he felt as if it might be irreverent
to introduce the hallowed shade of Washington into a history where
an ancient elbow-chair occupied the most prominent place. However, he
determined to proceed with his narrative, and speak of the hero when it
was needful, but with an unambitious simplicity.

So Grandfather told his auditors, that, on General Washington's arrival
at Cambridge, his first care was to reconnoitre the British troops with
his spy-glass, and to examine the condition of his own army. He found
that the American troops amounted to about fourteen thousand men. They
were extended all round the peninsula of Boston, a space of twelve
miles, from the high grounds of Roxbury on the right to Mystic River
on the left. Some were living in tents of sailcloth, some in shanties
rud