“Our grave old chair must have been scandalized at such scenes,” observed Laurence—“the chair that had been the Lady Arbella’s and which the holy apostle Eliot had consecrated.” “It certainly was little less than sacrilege,” replied Grandfather; “but the time was coming when even the churches where hallowed pastors had long preached the word of God were to be torn down or desecrated by the British troops. Some years passed, however, before such things were done.” Grandfather now told his auditors that in 1769 Sir Francis Bernard went to England, after having been governor of Massachusetts ten years. He was a gentleman of many good qualities, an excellent scholar, and a friend to learning. But he was naturally of an arbitrary disposition, and he had been bred at the University of Oxford, where young men were taught that the divine right of kings was the only thing to be regarded in matters of government. Such ideas were ill adapted to please the people of Massachusetts. They rejoiced to get rid of Sir Francis Bernard, but liked his successor, Lieutenant-governor Hutchinson, no better than himself. About this period the people were much incensed at an act committed by a person who held an office in the custom-house. Some lads or young men were snowballing his windows. He fired a musket at them and killed a poor boy only eleven years old. This event made a great noise in town and country, and much increased the resentment that was already felt against the servants of the Crown. “Now, children,” said Grandfather, “I wish to make you comprehend the position of the British troops in King Street. This is the same which we now call State Street. On the south side of the Town House, or Old State House, was what military men call a court of guard, defended by two brass cannons which pointed directly at one of the doors of the above edifice. A large party of soldiers were always stationed in the court of guard. The custom-house stood at a little distance down King Street, nearly where the Suffolk Bank now stands, and a sentinel was continually pacing before its front.” “I shall remember this tomorrow,” said Charley, “and I will go to State Street, so as to see exactly where the British troops were stationed.” “And before long,” observed Grandfather, “I shall have to relate an event which made King Street sadly famous on both sides of the Atlantic. The history of our chair will soon bring us to this melancholy business.” Here Grandfather described the state of things which arose from the ill-will that existed between the inhabitants and the red-coats. The old and sober part of the townspeople were very angry at the government for sending soldiers to overawe them. But those gray-headed men were cautious, and kept their thoughts and feelings in their own breasts, without putting themselves in the way of the British bayonets.