“There were many men of talent, who said what they could in defence of the king’s tyrannical proceedings,” replied Grandfather.  “But they had the worst side of the argument, and therefore seldom said any thing worth remembering.  Moreover their hearts were faint and feeble; for they felt that the people scorned and detested them.  They had no friends, no defence, except in the bayonets of the British troops.  A blight fell upon all their faculties, because they were contending against the rights of their own native land.”

“What were the names of some of them?” inquired Charley.

“Governor Hutchinson, Chief Justice Oliver, Judge Auchmuty, the Reverend Mather Byles, and several other clergymen, were among the most noted loyalists,” answered Grandfather.

“I wish the people had tarred and feathered every man of them!” cried Charley.

“That wish is very wrong, Charley,” said Grandfather.  “You must not think that there was no integrity and honor, except among those who stood up for the freedom of America.  For aught I know, there was quite as much of these qualities on one side as on the other.  Do you see nothing admirable in a faithful adherence to an unpopular cause?  Can you not respect that principle of loyalty, which made the royalists give up country, friends, fortune, every thing, rather than be false to their king?  It was a mistaken principle; but many of them cherished it honorably, and were martyrs to it.”

“Oh, I was wrong!” said Charley, ingenuously.  “And I would risk my life, rather than one of those good old royalists should be tarred and feathered.”

“The time is now come, when we may judge fairly of them,” continued Grandfather.  “Be the good and true men among them honored; for they were as much our countrymen as the patriots were.  And, thank Heaven! our country need not be ashamed of her sons—­of most of them, at least—­whatever side they took in the revolutionary contest.”

Among the portraits was one of King George the Third.  Little Alice clapped her hands, and seemed pleased with the bluff good nature of his physiognomy.  But Laurence thought it strange, that a man with such a face, indicating hardly a common share of intellect, should have had influence enough on human affairs, to convulse the world with war.  Grandfather observed, that this poor king had always appeared to him one of the most unfortunate persons that ever lived.  He was so honest and conscientious, that, if he had been only a private man, his life would probably have been blameless and happy.  But his was that worst of fortunes, to be placed in a station far beyond his abilities.

“And so,” said Grandfather, “his life, while he retained what intellect Heaven had gifted him with, was one long mortification.  At last, he grew crazed with care and trouble.  For nearly twenty years, the monarch of England was confined as a madman.  In his old age, too, God took away his eyesight; so that his royal palace was nothing to him but a dark, lonesome prison-house.”