“Begin quick, Grandfather,” cried little Alice; “for Pussy wants to hear you.”

And, truly, our yellow friend, the cat, lay upon the hearth rug, basking in the warmth of the fire, pricking up her ears, and turning her head from the children to Grandfather, and from Grandfather to the children, as if she felt herself very sympathetic with them all.  A loud purr, like the singing of a tea-kettle, or the hum of a spinning-wheel, testified that she was as comfortable and happy as a cat could be.  For Puss had feasted, and therefore, like Grandfather and the children, had kept a good Thanksgiving.

“Does Pussy want to hear me?” said Grandfather, smiling.  “Well; we must please Pussy, if we can!”

And so he took up the history of the chair, from the epoch of the peace of 1748.  By one of the provisions of the treaty, Louisbourg, which the New Englanders had been at so much pains to take, was restored to the king of France.

The French were afraid, that, unless their colonies should be better defended than heretofore, another war might deprive them of the whole.  Almost as soon as peace was declared, therefore, they began to build strong fortifications in the interior of North America.  It was strange to behold these warlike castles, on the banks of solitary lakes, and far in the midst of woods.  The Indian, paddling his birch-canoe on Lake Champlain, looked up at the high ramparts of Ticonderoga, stone piled on stone, bristling with cannon, and the white flag of France floating above.  There were similar fortifications on Lake Ontario, and near the great Falls of Niagara, and at the sources of the Ohio River.  And all around these forts and castles lay the eternal forest; and the roll of the drum died away in those deep solitudes.

The truth was, that the French intended to build forts, all the way from Canada to Louisiana.  They would then have had a wall of military strength, at the back of the English settlements, so as completely to hem them in.  The king of England considered the building of these forts as a sufficient cause of war, which was accordingly commenced in 1754.

“Governor Shirley,” said Grandfather, “had returned to Boston in 1753.  While in Paris, he had married a second wife, a young French girl, and now brought her to the Province House.  But, when war was breaking out, it was impossible for such a bustling man to stay quietly at home, sitting in our old chair, with his wife and children round about him.  He therefore obtained a command in the English forces.”

“And what did Sir William Pepperell do?” asked Charley.

“He staid at home,” said Grandfather, “and was general of the militia.  The veteran regiments of the English army, which were now sent across the Atlantic, would have scorned to fight under the orders of an old American merchant.  And now began what aged people call the Old French War.  It would be going too far astray from the history of our chair, to tell you one half of the battles that were fought.  I cannot even allow myself to describe the bloody defeat of General Braddock, near the sources of the Ohio River, in 1755.  But, I must not omit to mention, that when the English general was mortally wounded, and his army routed, the remains of it were preserved by the skill and valor of George Washington.”