part in the war that was going
on; although, at one period, he talked of marching against the enemy
at the head of his company of cadets. But, on the whole, he probably
concluded that it was more befitting a governor to remain quietly in our
chair, reading the newspapers and official documents."

"Did the people like Pownall?" asked Charley.

"They found no fault with him," replied Grandfather. "It was no time to
quarrel with the governor when the utmost harmony was required in order
to defend the country against the French. But Pownall did not remain
long in Massachusetts. In 1759 he was sent to be governor of South
Carolina. In thus exchanging one government for another, I suppose he
felt no regret, except at the necessity of leaving Grandfather's chair
behind him."

"He might have taken it to South Carolina," observed Clara.

"It appears to me," said Laurence, giving the rein to his fancy, "that
the fate of this ancient chair was, somehow or other, mysteriously
connected with the fortunes of old Massachusetts. If Governor Pownall
had put it aboard the vessel in which he sailed for South Carolina, she
would probably have lain wind-bound in Boston Harbor. It was
ordained that the chair should not be taken away. Don't you think so,
Grandfather?"

"It was kept here for Grandfather and me to sit in together," said
little Alice, "and for Grandfather to tell stories about."

"And Grandfather is very glad of such a companion and such a theme,"
said the old gentleman, with a smile. "Well, Laurence, if our oaken
chair, like the wooden palladium of Troy, was connected with the
country's fate, yet there appears to have been no supernatural obstacle
to its removal from the Province House. In 1760 Sir Francis Bernard, who
had been' governor of New Jersey, was appointed to the same office in
Massachusetts. He looked at the old chair, and thought it quite
too shabby to keep company with a new set of mahogany chairs and an
aristocratic sofa which had just arrived from London. He therefore
ordered it to be put away in the garret."

The children were loud in their exclamations against this irreverent
conduct of Sir Francis Bernard. But Grandfather defended him as well as
he could. He observed that it was then thirty years since the chair had
been beautified by Governor Belcher. Most of the gilding was worn off
by the frequent scourings which it had undergone beneath the hands of a
black slave. The damask cushion, once so splen