m 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. "H-e-m! Hem!"

As Grandfather did not know that any person was in the room, he started
up in great surprise, and peeped hither and thither, behind the chair,
and into the recess by the fireside, and at the dark nook yonder near
the bookcase. Nobody could be seen.

"Poh!" said Grandfather to himself, "I must have been dreaming."

But, just as he was going to resume his seat, Grandfather happened to
look at the great chair. The rays of firelight were flickering upon it
in such a manner that it really seemed as if its oaken frame were all
alive. What! did it not move its elbow? There, too! It certainly lifted
one of its ponderous fore legs, as if it had a notion of drawing
itself a little nearer to the fire. Meanwhile the lion's head nodded
at Grandfather with as polite and sociable a look as a lion's visage,
carved in oak, could possibly be expected to assume. Well, this is
strange!

"Good evening, my old friend," said the dry and husky voice, now a
little clearer than before. "We have been intimately acquainted so long
that I think it high time we have a chat together."

Grandfather was looking straight at the lion's head, and could not be
mistaken in supposing that it moved its lips. So here the mystery was
all explained.

"I was not aware," said Grandfather, with a civil salutation to his
oaken companion, "that you possessed the faculty of speech. Otherwise I
should often have been glad to converse with such a solid, useful, and
substantial if not brilliant member of society."

"Oh!" replied the ancient chair, in a quiet and easy tone, for it had
now cleared its throat of the dust of ages, "I am naturally a silent
and incommunicative sort