CHAPTER III.
A RAINY DAY.
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-ease,
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 footstool, 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 anything 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 pitch. pine 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.
