verned.

"The governor," remarked Grandfather, "had two masters to serve,--the
king, who appointed him; and the people, on whom he depended for his
pay. Few men in this position would have ingenuity enough to satisfy
either party. Colonel Shute, though a good-natured, well-meaning man,
succeeded so ill with the people, that, in 1722, he suddenly went
away to England and made Complaint to King George. In the meantime
Lieutenant-Governor Dummer directed the affairs of the province, and
carried on a long and bloody war with the Indians."

"But where was our chair all this time?" asked Clara.

"It still remained in Cotton Mather's library," replied Grandfather;
"and I must not omit to tell you an incident which is very much to
the honor of this celebrated man. It is the more proper, too, that you
should hear it, because it will show you what a terrible calamity the
smallpox was to our forefathers. The history of the province (and, of
course, the history of our chair) would be incomplete without particular
mention of it."

Accordingly Grandfather told the children a story, to which, for want of
a better title, we shall give that of The Rejected Blessing.

One day, in 1721, Doctor Cotton Mather sat in his library reading a book
that had been published by the Royal Society of London. But every
few moments he laid the book upon the table, and leaned back in
Grandfather's chair with an aspect of deep care and disquietude. There
were certain things which troubled him exceedingly, so that he could
hardly fix his thoughts upon what he read.

It was now a gloomy time in Boston. That terrible disease; the
small-pox, had recently made its appearance in the town. Ever since
the first settlement of the country this awful pestilence had come at
intervals, and swept away multitudes of the inhabitants. Whenever it
commenced its ravages, nothing seemed to stay its progress until there
were no more victims for it to seize upon. Oftentimes hundreds of people
at once lay groaning with its agony; and when it departed, its deep
footsteps were always to be traced in many graves.

The people never felt secure from this calamity. Sometimes, perhaps,
it was brought into the country by a poor sailor, who had caught the
infection in foreign parts, and came hither to die and to be the cause
of many deaths. Sometimes, no doubt, it followed in the train of the
pompous governors when they came over from England. Sometimes the
disease lay hidden in