So Grandfather, with renewed cheerfulness, continued his history of the
chair, trusting that a profounder wisdom than his own would extract,
from these flowers and weeds of Time, a fragrance that might last beyond
all time.

At this period of the story Grandfather threw a glance backward as far
as the year 1660. He spoke of the ill-concealed reluctance with which
the Puritans in America had acknowledged the sway of Charles II. on his
restoration to his father's throne. When death had stricken Oliver
Cromwell, that mighty protector had no sincerer mourners than in New
England. The new king had been more than a year upon the throne before
his accession was proclaimed in Boston, although the neglect to perform
the ceremony might have subjected the rulers to the charge of treason.

During the reign of Charles II., however, the American colonies had but
little reason to complain of harsh or tyrannical treatment. But when
Charles died, in 1685, and was succeeded by his brother James, the
patriarchs of New England began to tremble. King James was known to be
of an arbitrary temper. It was feared by the Puritans that he would
assume despotic power. Our forefathers felt that they had no security
either for their religion or their liberties.

The result proved that they had reason for their apprehensions. King
James caused the charters of all the American colonies to be taken away.
The old charter of Massachusetts, which the people regarded as a holy
thing and as the foundation of all their liberties, was declared void.
The colonists were now no longer freemen; they were entirely dependent
on the king's pleasure. At first, in 1685, King James appointed Joseph
Dudley, a native of Massachusetts, to be president of New England. But
soon afterwards, Sir Edmund Andros, an officer of the English army,