“The chair,” said Grandfather, “after the ceremony of Mr. Oliver’s oath, appears to have been quite forgotten by the multitude. Indeed, being much bruised and rather rickety, owing to the violent treatment it had suffered from the Hutchinson mob, most people would have thought that its days of usefulness were over. Nevertheless, it was conveyed away under cover of the night and committed to the care of a skillful joiner. He doctored our old friend so successfully that in the course of a few days it made its appearance in the public room of the British Coffee-house in King Street.” “But why did not Mr. Hutchinson get possession of it again?” inquired Charley. “I know not,” answered Grandfather, “unless he considered it a dishonor and disgrace to the chair to have stood under Liberty Tree. At all events, he suffered it to remain at the British Coffee-house, which was the principal hotel in Boston. It could not possibly have found a situation where it would be more in the midst of business and bustle, or would witness more important events, or be occupied by a greater variety of persons.” Grandfather went on to tell the proceedings of the despotic King and ministry of England after the repeal of the stamp act. They could not bear to think that their right to tax America should be disputed by the people. In the year 1767, therefore, they caused Parliament to pass an act for laying a duty on tea and some other articles that were in general use. Nobody could now buy a pound of tea without paying a tax to King George. This scheme was pretty craftily contrived, for the women of America were very fond of tea, and did not like to give up the use of it. But the people were as much opposed to this new act of Parliament as they had been to the stamp act. England, however, was determined that they should submit. In order to compel their obedience two regiments, consisting of more than seven hundred British soldiers, were sent to Boston. They arrived in September, 1768, and were landed on Long Wharf. Thence they marched to the Common with loaded muskets, fixed bayonets, and great pomp and parade. So now at last the free town of Boston was guarded and overawed by red-coats as it had been in the days of old Sir Edmond Andros.