True Stories of History and Biography | Page 6

to
set apart a burial-ground!"
"Perhaps," said Laurence, "if they had found no need of burial-grounds
here, they would have been glad, after a few years, to go back to
England."
Grandfather looked at Laurence, to discover whether he knew how
profound and true a thing he had said.
Chapter III
Not long after Grandfather had told the story of his great chair, there
chanced to be a rainy day. Our friend Charley, after disturbing the
household with beat of drum and riotous shouts, races up and down the
staircase, overturning of chairs, and much other uproar, began to feel

the quiet and confinement within doors intolerable. But as the rain
came down in a flood, the little fellow was hopelessly a prisoner, and
now stood with sullen aspect at a window, wondering whether the sun
itself were not extinguished by so much moisture in the sky.
Charley had already exhausted the less eager activity of the other
children; and they had betaken themselves to occupations that did not
admit of his companionship. Laurence sat in a recess near the
book-case, reading, not for the first time, the Midsummer Night's
Dream. Clara was making a rosary of beads for a little figure of a Sister
of Charity, who was to attend the Bunker Hill Fair, and lend her aid in
erecting the Monument. Little Alice sat on Grandfather's foot-stool,
with a picture-book in her hand; and, for every picture, the child was
telling Grandfather a story. She did not read from the book, (for little
Alice had not much skill in reading,) but told the story out of her own
heart and mind.
Charley was too big a boy, of course, to care any thing about little
Alice's stories, although Grandfather appeared to listen with a good
deal of interest. Often, in a young child's ideas and fancies, there is
something which it requires the thought of a lifetime to comprehend.
But Charley was of opinion, that if a story must be told, it had better be
told by Grandfather, than little Alice.
"Grandfather, I want to hear more about your chair," said he.
Now Grandfather remembered that Charley had galloped away upon a
stick, in the midst of the narrative of poor Lady Arbella, and I know not
whether he would have thought it worth while to tell another story,
merely to gratify such an inattentive auditor as Charley. But Laurence
laid down his book and seconded the request. Clara drew her chair
nearer to Grandfather, and little Alice immediately closed her
picture-book, and looked up into his face. Grandfather had not the heart
to disappoint them.
He mentioned several persons who had a share in the settlement of our
country, and who would be well worthy of remembrance, if we could
find room to tell about them all. Among the rest, Grandfather spoke of

the famous Hugh Peters, a minister of the gospel, who did much good
to the inhabitants of Salem. Mr. Peters afterwards went back to
England, and was chaplain to Oliver Cromwell; but Grandfather did not
tell the children what became of this upright and zealous man, at last.
In fact, his auditors were growing impatient to hear more about the
history of the chair.
"After the death of Mr. Johnson," said he, "Grandfather's chair came
into the possession of Roger Williams. He was a clergyman, who
arrived at Salem, and settled there in 1631. Doubtless the good man has
spent many a studious hour in this old chair, either penning a sermon,
or reading some abstruse book of theology, till midnight came upon
him unawares. At that period, as there were few lamps or candles to be
had, people used to read or work by the light of pitchpine torches.
These supplied the place of the "midnight oil," to the learned men of
New England."
Grandfather went on to talk about Roger Williams, and told the
children several particulars, which we have not room to repeat. One
incident, however, which was connected with his life, must be related,
because it will give the reader an idea of the opinions and feelings of
the first settlers of New England. It was as follows:

THE RED CROSS
While Roger Williams sat in Grandfather's chair, at his humble
residence in Salem, John Endicott would often come to visit him. As
the clergy had great influence in temporal concerns, the minister and
magistrate would talk over the occurrences of the day, and consult how
the people might be governed according to scriptural laws.
One thing especially troubled them both. In the old national banner of
England, under which her soldiers have fought for hundreds of years,
there is a Red Cross, which has been there ever since the days when
England was in subjection to the Pope. The Cross,