It was a bliss to which every sort of earthly experience--all that he had enjoyed, or suffered or seen, or heard, or acted, with the broodings of his soul upon the whole--had contributed somewhat.

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 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.