Not only these, but several other men of wealth and pious ministers were
in the cabin of the Arbella. One had banished himself forever from the
old hall where his ancestors had lived for hundreds of years. Another
had left his quiet parsonage, in a country town of England. Others had
come from the Universities of Oxford or Cambridge, where they had gained
great fame for their learning. And here they all were, tossing upon the
uncertain and dangerous sea, and bound for a home that was more
dangerous than even the sea itself. In the cabin, likewise, sat the Lady
Arbella in her chair, with a gentle and sweet expression on her face,
but looking too pale and feeble to endure the hardships of the
wilderness.

Every morning and evening the Lady Arbella gave up her great chair to
one of the ministers, who took his place in it and read passages from
the Bible to his companions. And thus, with prayers, and pious
conversation, and frequent singing of hymns, which the breezes caught
from their lips and scattered far over the desolate waves, they
prosecuted their voyage, and sailed into the harbor of Salem in the
month of June.

At that period there were but six or eight dwellings in the town; and
these were miserable hovels, with roofs of straw and wooden chimneys.
The passengers in the fleet either built huts with bark and branches of
trees, or erected tents of cloth till they could provide themselves with
better shelter. Many of them went to form a settlement at Charlestown.
It was thought fit that the Lady Arbella should tarry in Salem for a
time; she was probably received as a guest into the family of John
Endicott. He was the chief person in the plantation, and had the only
comfortable house which the new-comers had beheld since they left
England. So now, children, you must imagine Grandfather's chair in the