rrived yesterday from England."

Mr. Williams, the minister of Salem, and of course known to all the
spectators, had now reached the spot where Endicott was standing under
the banner of his company, and put the governor's epistle into his
hand. The broad seal was impressed with Winthrop's coat-of-arms.
Endicott hastily unclosed the letter and began to read, while, as his
eye passed down the page, a wrathful change came over his manly
countenance. The blood glowed through it till it seemed to be kindling
with an internal heat, nor was it unnatural to suppose that his
breastplate would likewise become red hot with the angry fire of the
bosom which it covered. Arriving at the conclusion, he shook the
letter fiercely in his hand, so that it rustled as loud as the flag
above his head.

"Black tidings these, Mr. Williams," said he; "blacker never came to
New England. Doubtless you know their purport?"

"Yea, truly," replied Roger Williams, "for the governor consulted
respecting this matter with my brethren in the ministry at Boston, and
my opinion was likewise asked. And His Excellency entreats you by me
that the news be not suddenly noised abroad, lest the people be
stirred up unto some outbreak, and thereby give the king and the
archbishop a handle against us."

"The governor is a wise man--a wise man, and a meek and moderate,"
said Endicott, setting his teeth grimly. "Nevertheless, I must do
according to my own best judgment. There is neither man, woman nor
child in New England but has a concern as dear as life in these
tidings; and if John Endicott's voice be loud enough, man, woman and
child shall hear them.--Soldiers, wheel into a hollow square.--Ho,
good people! Here are news for one and all of you."

The soldiers closed in around their captain, and he and Roger Williams
stood together under the banner of the red cross, while the women and
the aged men pressed forward and the mothers held up their children to
look Endicott in the face. A few taps of the drum gave signal for
silence and attention.

"Fellow-soldiers, fellow-exiles," began Endicott, speaking under
strong excitement, yet powerfully restraining it, "wherefore did ye
leave your native country? Wherefore, I say, have we left the green
and fertile fields, the cottages, or, perchance, the old gray halls,
where we were born and bred, the churchyards where our forefathers lie
buried? Wherefore have we come hither to set up our own tombstones in
a wilderne