cold, and can keep their hearts firm against all difficulties and dangers.
But she is not one of these. Her gentle and timid spirit sinks within her;
and turning away from the window she sits down in the great chair, and
wonders thereabouts in the wilderness her friends will dig her grave.

Mr. Johnson had gone, with Governor Winthrop and most of the other
passengers, to Boston, where he intended to build a house for Lady Arbella
and himself. Boston was then covered with wild woods, and had fewer
inhabitants even than Salem. During her husband’s absence, poor Lady
Arbella felt herself growing ill, and was hardly able to stir from the
great chair. Whenever John Endicott noticed her despondency, he doubtless
addressed her with words of comfort. "Cheer up, my good lady!" he would
say. "In a little time, you will love this rude life of the wilderness as
I do." But Endicott’s heart was as bold and resolute as iron, and he could
not understand why a woman’s heart should not be of iron too.

Still, however, he spoke kindly to the lady, and then hastened forth to
till his corn-field and set out fruit trees, or to bargain with the
Indians for furs, or perchance to oversee the building of a fort. Also
being a magistrate, he had often to punish some idler or evil-doer, by
ordering him to be set in the stocks or scourged at the whipping-post.
Often, too, as was the custom of the times, he and Mr. Higginson, the
minister of Salem, held long religious talks together. Thus John Endicott
was a man of multifarious business, and had no time to look back
regretfully to his native land. He felt himself fit for the new world, and
for the work that he had to do, and set himself resolutely to accomplish
it.

What a contrast, my dear children, between this bold, rough, active man,
and the gentle Lady Arbella, who was fading away, like a pale English