“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, though a holy symbol, was abhorred by the Puritans, because they considered it a relic of Popish idolatry.  Now, whenever the train-band of Salem was mustered, the soldiers, with Endicott at their head, had no other flag to march under than this same old papistical banner of England, with the Red Cross in the midst of it.  The banner of the Red Cross, likewise, was flying on the walls of the fort of Salem; and a similar one was displayed in Boston harbor, from the fortress on Castle Island.