ith the erect
and rigid mien of disciplined soldiers. Some hobbled on crutches and
wooden legs; others had received wounds, which were still rankling in
their breasts. Many, alas! had fallen in battle, and perhaps were left
unburied on the bloody field."

"The country must have been sick of war," observed Laurence.

"One would have thought so," said Grandfather. "Yet only two or three
years elapsed before the folly of some misguided men caused another
mustering of soldiers. This affair was called Shays's war, because a
Captain Shays was the chief leader of the insurgents."

"Oh Grandfather, don't let there be another war!" cried little Alice,
piteously.

Grandfather comforted his dear little girl by assuring her that there
was no great mischief done. Shays's war happened in the latter part of
1786 and the beginning of the following year. Its principal cause
was the badness of times. The State of Massachusetts, in its public
capacity, was very much in debt. So likewise were many of the people.
An insurrection took place, the object of which seems to have been to
interrupt the course of law and get rid of debts and taxes.

James Bowdoin, a good and able man, was now governor of Massachusetts.
He sent General Lincoln, at the head of four thousand men, to put down
the insurrection. This general, who had fought through several hard
campaigns in the Revolution, managed matters like an old soldier, and
totally defeated the rebels at the expense of very little blood.

"There is but one more public event to be recorded in the history of
our chair," proceeded Grandfather. "In the year 1794 Samuel Adams was
elected governor of Massachusetts. I have told you what a distinguished
patriot he was, and how much he resembled the stern old Puritans. Could
the ancient freemen of Massachusetts who lived in the days of the first
charter have arisen from their graves, they would probably have voted
for Samuel Adams to be governor."

"Well, Grandfather, I hope he sat in our chair," said Clara.

"He did," replied Grandfather. "He had long been in the habit of
visiting the barber's shop, where our venerable chair, philosophically
forgetful of its former dignities, had now spent nearly eighteen not
uncomfortable years. Such a remarkable piece of furniture, so evidently
a relic of long-departed times, could not escape the notice of Samuel
Adams. He made minute researches into its history, and ascertained what
a succession of excellent an