e House, sculptured out of the hardest of New
England granite."

"It would not be amiss, Laurence," said Grandfather; "but perhaps clay, or
some other perishable material, might suffice for some of their
successors. But let us go back to our chair. It was occupied by Governor
Bradstreet from April, 1689, until May, 1692. Sir William Phips then
arrived in Boston, with a new charter from King William, and a commission
to be governor."

Chapter X

"And what became of the chair," inquired Clara.

"The outward aspect of our chair," replied Grandfather, "was now somewhat
the worse for its long and arduous services. It was considered hardly
magnificent enough to be allowed to keep its place in the council chamber
of Massachusetts. In fact, it was banished as an article of useless
lumber. But Sir William Phips happened to see it and being much pleased
with its construction, resolved to take the good old chair into his
private mansion. Accordingly, with his own gubernatorial hands, he
repaired one of its arms, which had been slightly damaged".

"Why, Grandfather, here is the very arm!" interrupted Charley, in great
wonderment. "And did Sir William Phips put in these screws with his own
hands? I am sure, he did it beautifully! But how came a governor to know
how to mend a chair?"

"I will tell you a story about the early life of Sir William Phips," said
Grandfather. "You will then perceive, that he well knew how to use his
hands."

So Grandfather related the wonderful and true tale of

THE SUNKEN TREASURE

Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a handsome, old-fashioned room,
with a large, open cupboard at one end, in which is displayed a
magnificent gold cup, with some other splendid articles of gold and silver
plate. In another part of the room, opposite to a tall looking-glass,
stands our beloved chair, newly polished, and adorned with a gorgeous
cushion of crimson velvet tufted with gold.

In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy frame, whose face has been
roughened by northern tempests, and blackened by the burning sun of the
West Indies. He wears an immense periwig, flowing down over his shoulders.
His coat has a wide embroidery of golden foliage; and his waistcoat,
likewise, is all flowered over and bedizened with gold. His red, rough
hands, which have done many a good day's work with the hammer and adze,
are half covered by the delicate lace ruffles at his wrists. On a table
lies his silve