In the same manner must a bliss, of which now they could have no conception, grow up within these children, and form a part of their sustenance for immortality.
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 the Second, 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 the Second, 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.