ntle and lovely Lady Arbella would have been seen in the
old chair, almost sinking out of its arms for very weakness; then Roger
Williams, in his cloak and band, earnest, energetic, and benevolent;
then the figure of Anne Hutchinson, with the like gesture as when she
presided at the assemblages of women; then the dark, intellectual face
of Vane, "young in years, but in sage counsel old." Next would have
appeared the successive governors, Winthrop, Dudley, Bellingham, and
Endicott, who sat in the chair while it was a chair of state. Then
its ample seat would have been pressed by the comfortable, rotund
corporation of the honest mint-master. Then the half-frenzied shape
of Mary Dyer, the persecuted Quaker woman, clad in sackcloth and ashes
would have rested in it for a moment. Then the holy, apostolic form of
Eliot would have sanctified it. Then would have arisen, like the shade
of departed Puritanism, the venerable dignity of the white-bearded
Governor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the gorgeous crimson cushion of
Grandfather's chair would have shone the purple and golden magnificence
of Sir William Phips. But all these, with the other historic personages,
in the midst of whom the chair had so often stood, had passed, both in
substance and shadow, from the scene of ages. Yet here stood the chair,
with the old Lincoln coat of arms, and the oaken flowers and foliage,
and the fierce lion's head at the summit, the whole, apparently, in as
perfect preservation as when it had first been placed in the Earl of
Lincoln's hall. And what vast changes of society and of nations had been
wrought by sudden convulsions or by slow degrees since that era!

"This Chair had stood firm when the thrones of kings were overturned!"
thought Laurence. "Its oaken frame has proved stronger than many frames
of government!"

More the thoughtful and imaginative boy might have mused; but now a
large yellow cat, a great favorite with all the children, leaped in
at the open window. Perceiving that Grandfather's chair was empty, and
having often before experienced its comforts, puss laid herself quietly
down upon the cushion. Laurence, Clara, Charley, and little Alice all
laughed at the idea of such a successor to the worthies of old times.

"Pussy," said little Alice, putting out her hand, into which the
cat laid a velvet paw, "you look very wise. Do tell us a story about
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR!"

APPENDIX TO PART I.

EXTRACTS FROM THE LIFE OF JOHN ELIOT