The Courtship of Miles Standish Suddenly breaking the silence, the dili- by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow gent scribe interrupting, Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles I Standish the Captain of Plymouth. Miles Standish “Look at these arms,” he said, “the war- In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the like weapons that hang here land of the Pilgrims, Burnished and bright and clean, as if for To and fro in a room of his simple and parade or inspection! primitive dwelling, This is the sword of Damascus I fought Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cor- with in Flanders; this breastplate, dovan leather, Well I remember the day! once saved my Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish life in a skirmish; the Puritan Captain. Here in front you can see the very dint of Buried in thought he seemed, with his the bullet hands behind him, and pausing Fired at point-blank at my heart by a Spanish Ever and anon to behold his glittering arcabucero. weapons of warfare, Had it not been of sheer steel, the for- Hanging in shining array along the walls gotten bones of Miles Standish of the chamber,- Would at this moment be mould, in their Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty grave in the Flemish morasses.” sword of Damascus, Thereupon answered John Alden, but Curved at the point and inscribed with its looked not up from his writing: mystical Arabic sentence, “Truly the breath of the Lord hath slack- While underneath, in a corner, were fowl- ened the speed of the bullet; ing-piece, musket, and matchlock. He in his mercy preserved you, to be our Short of stature he was, but strongly built shield and our weapon!” and athletic, Still the Captain continued, unheeding the Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with words of the stripling: muscles and sinews of iron; “See, how bright they are burnished, as if Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet in an arsenal hanging; beard was already That is because I have done it myself, and Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges not left it to others. sometimes in November. Serve yourself, would you be well served, Near him was seated John Alden, his friend is an excellent adage; and household companion, So I take care of my arms, as you of your Writing with diligent speed at a table of pens and your inkhorn. pine by the window; Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, Fair-haired, azure eyed, with delicate Saxon invincible army, complexion, Twelve men, all equipped, having each his Having the dew of his youth, and the rest and his matchlock, beauty thereof, as the captives Eighteen shillings a month, together with Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, diet and pillage, “Not Angles, but Angels.” And, like Caesar, I know the name of each Youngest of all was he of the men who of my soldiers!” came in the Mayflower. This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams many already have perished!” Sadly his face he averted, and strode up Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish and down, and was thoughtful. again in a moment. Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Fixed to the opposite wall was a shelf of Captain continued: books, and among them “Look! you can see from this window my Prominent three, distinguished alike for brazen howitzer planted bulk and for binding; High on the roof of the church, a preacher Bariffe’s Artillery Guide, and the Com- who speaks to the purpose, mentaries of Caesar Steady, straightforward, and strong, with Out of the Latin translated by Arthur irresistible logic, Goldinge of London, Orthodox, flashing conviction right into the And, as if guarded by these, between them hearts of the heathen. was standing the Bible. Now we are ready, I think, for any assault Musing a moment before them, Miles of the Indians; Standish paused, as if doubtful Let them come, if they like, and the sooner Which of these three he should choose for they try it the better,-- his consolation and comfort, Let them come, if they like, be it sagamore, Whether the wars of the Hebrews, the fa- sachem, or pow-wow, mous campaigns of the Romans, Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, or Or the Artillery practice, designed for bel- Tokamahamon!” ligerant Christians. Finally down from its shelf he dragged the Long at the window he stood, and wist- ponderous Roman, fully gazed at the landscape, Seated himself by the window, and opened Washed with a cold gray mist, the vapory the book, and in silence breath of the east-wind, Turned o’er the well-worn leaves, where Forest and meadow and hill, and the steel- thumb-marks thick in the margin, blue rim of the ocean, Like the trample of feet, proclaimed the Lying silent and sad, in the afternoon shad- battle was hottest. ows and sunshine. Nothing was heard in the room but the Over his countenance flitted a shadow like hurrying pen of the stripling, those on the landscape, Busily writing epistles important, to go by Gloom intermingled with light; and his the Mayflower, voice was subdued with emotion, Ready to sail on the morrow, or next day Tenderness, pity, regret, as after a pause at latest, God willing! he proceeded: Homeward bound with the tidings of all “Yonder there, on the hill by the sea, lies that terrible winter, buried Rose Standish; Letters written by Alden, and full of the Beautiful rose of love, that bloomed for me name of Priscilla! by the wayside! Full of the name and fame of the Pu- She was the first to die of all who came in ritan maiden Priscilla! the Mayflower! Green above her is growing the field of wheat we have sown there, Better to hide from the Indian scouts the graves of our people, crowded so closely together Lest they should count them and see how There was no room for their swords? II Why, he seized a sword from a sol- Love and Friendship dier Put himself straight at the head of his Nothing was heard in the room but the troops, and commanded the captains, hurrying pen of the stripling, Calling on each by his name, to order for- Or and occasional sigh from the laboring ward the ensigns; heart of the Captain, Then to widen the ranks, and give more Reading the marvelous words and acieve- room for their weapons; ments of Julius Caesar. So he won the day, the battle of something- After a while he exclaimed, as he smote or-other. with his hand, palm downwards, That’s what I always say; if you wish a Heavily on the page: “A wonderful man thing to be well done, was this Caesar! You must do it yourself, you must not leave You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but it to others!” here is a fellow Who could both write and fight, and in All was silent again; the Captain con- both was he equally skilful!” tinued his reading. Straightway answered and spake John Nothing was heard in the room but the Alden, the comely, the youthful: hurrying pen of the stripling “Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, Writing epistles important to go the next with his pen and his weapons. day by the Mayflower, Somewhere have I read, but where I for- Filled with the name and the fame of the get, he could dictate Puritan maiden Priscilla, Seven letters at once, at the same time Till the treacherous pen, to which he con- writing his memoirs.” fided the secret, “Truly,” continued the Captain, not heed- Strove to betray it by singing and shouting ing or hearing the other, the name of Priscilla! “Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Finally closing his book, with a bang of the Caesar! ponderous cover, Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier village, grounding his musket, Than be second in Rome, and I think he Thus to the young man spake Miles Stan- was right when he said it. dish the Captain of Plymouth: Twice was he married before he was “When you have finished your work, I have twenty, and many times after; something important to tell you. Battles five hundred he fought, and a Be not however in haste; I can wait; I thousand cities he conquered; shall not be impatient!” He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the has recorded; last of his letters, Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the Pushing his papers aside, and giving re- orator Brutus! spectful attention: Now, do you know what he did on a cer- “Speak; for whenever you speak, I am tain occasion in Flanders, always ready to listen, When the rear-guard of his army retreated, Always ready to hear whatever pertains to the front giving way too, pleadings and wooings of lovers, And the immortal Twelfth Legion was Such as you think best adapted to win the Miles Standish.” heart of a maiden.” Thereupon answered the Captain, embar- rassed, and culling his phrases: When he had spoken, John Alden, the “’T not good for a man to be alone, say fair-haired, taciturn stripling, the Scriptures. All aghast at his words, surprised, embar- This I have said before, and again and rassed, bewildered, again I repeat it; Trying to mask his dismay by treating the Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel subject with lightness, it, and say it. Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart Since Rose Standish died, my life has been stand still in his bosom, weary and dreary; Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is Sick at heart have I been, beyond the heal- stricken by lightening, ing of friendship; Thus made answer and spake, or rather Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of stammered, then answered: the maiden Priscilla. “Such a message as that, I am sure I She is alone in the world; her father and should mangle and mar it; mother and brother If you would have it well done, -I am Died in the winter together, I saw her only repeating your maxim,-- going and coming, You must do it yourself, you must not leave Now to the grave of the dead, and now to it to others!” the bed of the dying. But with the air of a man whom nothing Patient, courageous, and strong and said can turn from his purpose, to myself, that if ever Gravely shaking his head, made answer the There were angels on earth, as there are Captain of Plymouth: angels in heaven. “Truly the maxim is good, and I do not Two have I seen and known; and the angel mean to gainsay it; whose name is Priscilla But we must use it discreetly, and not Holds in my desolate life the place which waste powder for nothing. the other abandoned. Now, as I said before, I was never a maker Long have I cherished the thought, but of phrases. never have dared to reveal it, I can march up to a fortress and summon Being a coward in this though valiant the place to surrender, enough for the most part. But march up to a woman with such a pro- Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest posal, I dare not. maiden on Plymouth, I’m not afraid of bullets, nor shot Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not from the mouth of a cannon, of words but of actions, But of a thundering ‘No!’ point-blank Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and from the mouth of a woman, heart of a soldier. That I confess I’m afraid of, nor am I Not in these words, you know, but this in ashamed to confess it! short is my meaning; So you must grant my request, for you are I am a maker of war, and not a maker of an elegant scholar, phrases. Having the graces of speech, and skill in You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it the turning of phrases.” in elegant language, Over the wintry sea, to the desolate shores Such as you read in your books of the of New England? Taking the hand of his friend, who still Truly the heart is deceitful, and out of its was reluctant and doubtful, depths of corruption Holding it long in his own, and pressing it Rise, like an exhalation, the misty phan- kindly, he added: toms of passion; “Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet Angels of light they seem, but are only deep is the feeling that prompts me; delusions of Satan. Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the All is clear to me now; I feel it, I see it name of our friendship!” distinctly! Then made answer John Alden: “The This is the hand of the Lord; it is laid upon name of friendship is sacred; me in anger, What you demand in that name, I have not For I have followed too much the heart’s the power to deny you!” desires and devices, So the strong will prevail, subduing and Worshipping Astaroth blindly, and impious moulding the gentler, idols of Baal. Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden This is the cross I must bear; the sin and went on his errand. the swift retribution.”

III So through the Plymouth woods John The Lover’s Errand Alden went on his errand; Crossing the brook at the ford, where it So the strong will prevail, and Alden brawled over pebble and shallow, went on his errand, Gathering still, as he went, the May-flowers Out of the street of the village, and into blooming around him, the paths of the forest, Fragrant, filling the air with a strange and Into the tranquil woods, where bluebirds wonderful sweetness, and robins were building Children lost in the woods, and covered Towns in the populous trees, with hanging with leaves in their slumber. gardens of verdure, “Puritan flowers,” he said, “and the type Peaceful, aerial cities of joy and affection of Puritan maidens, and freedom. Modest and simple an sweet, the very All around him was calm, but within him type of Priscilla! commotion and conflict, So I will take them to her; to Priscilla the Love contending with friendship, and self Mayflower of Plymouth, with each generous impulse. Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting To and from in his breast his thoughts were gift I will take them; heaving and dashing, Breathing their silent farewells, as they As in a foundering ship, with every roll of fade and wither and perish, the vessel, Soon to be thrown away as is the heart of Washes the bitter sea, the merciless surge the giver.” of the ocean! So through the Plymouth woods John “Must I relinquish it all,” he cried with a Alden went on his errand; wild lamentation,-- Came to an open space, and saw the disk “Must I relinquish it all, the joy, the hope, of the ocean, the illusion? Was it for this I have followed the flying Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely feet and the shadow he said it, Sailless, sombre and cold with comfort- “Let not him that putteth his hand to the less breath of the east-wind; plough look backwards; Saw the new-built house, and people at Though the ploughshare cut through the work in a meadow; flowers of life to its fountains, Heard, as he drew near the door, the mu- Though it pass o’er the graves of the dead sical voice of Priscilla and the hearths of the living, Singing the hundredth psalm, the grand It is the will of the Lord; and his mercy old Puritan anthem, endureth forever!” Music that Luther sang to the sacred words of the Psalmist, So he entered the house: and the hum of Full of the breath of the Lord, consoling the wheel and the singing and comforting many. Suddenly ceased; for Priscilla, aroused by Then, as he opened the door, he beheld the his step on the threshold, form of the maiden Rose as he entered, and gave him her hand, Seated beside her wheel, and the carded in signal of welcome, wool like a snow-drift Saying, “ I knew it was you, when I heard Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding your step in the passage; the ravenous spindle, For I was thinking of you, as I sat there While with her foot on the treadle she singing and spinning.” guided the wheel in its motion. Awkward and dumb with delight, that a Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn thought of him had been mingled psalm-book of Ainsworth, Thus in the sacred psalm, that came from Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the the heart of the maiden, music together, Silent before her he stood, and gave her the Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in flowers for an answer, the wall of a church yard, Finding no words for his thought. He re- Darkened and overhung by the running vine membered that day in the winter, of the versus. After the great snow, when he broke Such was the book from whose pages she a path from the village, sang the old Puritan anthem, Reeling and plunging along through the She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the drifts that encumbered the doorway, forest, Stamping the snow from his feet as he en- Making the humble house and the modest tered the house, and Priscilla apparel of homespun Laughed at his snowy locks, and gave him Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with a seat by the fireside, the wealth of her being! Grateful and pleased to know he had Over him rushed, like a wind that is keen thought of her in the snow-storm. and cold and relentless, Had he but spoken then! perhaps not in Thoughts of what might have been, and vain had he spoken; the weight and woe of his errand; Now it was all too late; the golden mo- All the dreams that had faded, and all the ment had vanished! hopes that had vanished, So he stood there abashed, and gave her All his life henceforth a dreary and tenant- the flowers for an answer. less mansion, Haunted by vain regrets, and pallid, sorrow- Even the Captain himself could hardly ful faces. have said it more bluntly. Then they sat down and talked of the Mute with amazement and sorrow, Priscilla birds and the beautiful Spring-time, the Puritan maiden Talked of their friends at home, and the Looked into Alden’s face, her eyes dilated Mayflower that sailed on the mor- with wonder, row. Feeling his words like a blow, that stunned “I have been thinking all day,” said gently her and rendered her speechless; the Puritan maiden, Till at length she exclaimed, interrupting “Dreaming all night, and thinking all day, the ominous silence: of the hedge-rows of England,-- “If the great Captain of Plymouth is so They are in blossom now, and the country very eager to wed me, is all like a garden: Why does he not come himself, and take Thinking of lanes and fields, and the song the trouble to woo me? of the lark and the linnet, If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am Seeing the village street, and the familiar not worth the winning!” faces of neighbors Then John Alden began explaining and Going about as of old, and stopping to gos- smoothing the matter, sip together, Making it worse as he went, by saying the And, at the end of the street, the village Captain was busy,-- church , with the ivy Had no time for such things—such things! Climbing the gray tower, and the quiet the words grating harshly graves in the churchyard. Fell on the ear of Priscilla; and swift as a Kind are the people I live with, and dear flash she made answer: to me is my religion; “Has he no time for such things, as you Still my heart is so sad, that I wish myself call it, before he is married, back in Old England. Would he be likely to find it, or make it, You will say it is wrong, but I cannot help after the wedding? it: I almost That is the way with you men; you don’t Wish myself back in Old England, I feel understand us, you cannot. so lonely and wretched.” When you have made up your minds, after thinking of this one and that Thereupon answered the youth: “in- one, deed I do not condemn you; Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing Stouter hearts than a woman’s have quailed one with another, in this terrible winter. Then you make known your desire, with Yours is tender and trusting, and needs abrupt and sudden avowel, a stronger to lean on; And are offended and hurt, and indignant So I have come to you now, with an offer perhaps, that a woman and proffer of marriage Does not respond at once to a love that she Made by a good man and true, Mile Stan- never suspected, dish the Captain of Plymouth!” Does not attain at a bound the height to Thus he delivered his message, the dex- which you have been climbing. terous write of letters,-- This is not right nor just: for surely a Did not embellish the theme, nor array it woman’s affection in beautiful phrases, But came straight to the point, and blurted For he was great of heart, magnanimous, it out like a school-boy; courtly, courageous; Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for Any woman in Plymouth, nay, any woman only the asking. in England, When one is truly in love, one not only Might be happy and proud to be called the says it, but shows it. wife of Miles Standish! Had he but waited awhile, had he only showed that he loved me, But as he warmed and glowed, in his Even this Captain of yours-who knows? simple and eloquent language, --at last might have won me, Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise Old and rough as he is; but now it never of his rival, can happen.” Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with laughter, Still John Alden went on, unheeding the Said, in a tremulous voice, “Why don’t you words of Priscilla, speak for yourself, John?” Urging the suit of his friend, explaining, persuading, expanding; IV Spoke of his courage and skill, and of all John Alden his battles in Flanders, How with the people of God he has chosen Into the open air John Alden, perplexed to suffer affliction; and bewildered, How, in return for his zeal, they had made Rushed like a man insane, and wandered him Captain of Plymouth; alone by the sea-side; He was a gentleman born, could trace his Paced up and down the sands, and bared his pedigree plainly head to the east-wind, Back to Hugh Standish of Duxbury Hall, Cooling his heated brow, and the fire and in Lancashire, England, fever within him. Who was the son of Ralph, and the grand- Slowly as of out of the heavens, with son of Thurston de Standish; apocalyptical splendors, Heir unto vast estates, of which he was Sank the City of God, in the vision of John basely defrauded, the Apostle, Still bore the family arms, and had for his So, with its cloudy walls of chrysolite, crest a cock argent, jasper, and sapphire, Combed and wattled gules, and all the rest Sank the broad red sun, and over its turrets of the blazon. uplifted He was a man of honor, of noble and gen- Glimmered the golden reed of the angel erous nature; who measured the city. Though he was rough, he was kindly; she knew how during the winter “Welcome, O wind of the East!” he He had attended the sick, with a hand as exclaimed in his wild exultation, gentle as a woman’s; “Welcome, O wind of the East, from the Somewhat hasty and hot, he could not deny caves of the misty Atlantic! Blowing o’er it, and headstrong, fields of dulse, and measure- Stern as a soldier might be, but hearty, and less meadows of sea-grass, placable always, Blowing o’er rocky wastes, and the grottoes Not to be laughed at and scorned, because and gardens of ocean! he was of little stature; and stared at the vessel, Then went hurriedly on, as one who, seeing Lay thy cold, moist hand on my burning a phantom, forehead, and wrap me Stops, then quickens his pace, and follows Close in thy garments of mist, to allay the the beckoning shadow. fever within me!” “Yes, it is plain to me now,” he murmured; “the hand of the Lord is Like an awakened conscience, the sea Leading me out of the land of darkness, was moaning and tossing, the bondage of error, Beating remorseful and loud the mutable Through the sea, that shall lift the walls of sands of the sea-shore. its waters around me, Fierce in his soul was the struggle and tu- Hiding me, cutting me off, from the cruel mult of passions contending; thoughts that pursue me. Love triumphant and crowned, and friend- Back will I go o’er the ocean, this dreary ship wounded and bleeding, land will abandon, Passionate cries of desire, and importunate She whom I may not love, and him whom pleadings of duty! my heart has offended. “Is it my fault,” he said, “that the maiden Better to be in my grave in the green old has chosen between us? church yard in England, Is it my fault that he failed,--my fault Close by my mother’s side, and among the that I am the victor?” dust of my kindred; Then within him there thundered a voice, Better be dead and forgotten, than living like the voice of the Prophet: in shame and dishonor; “It hath displeased the Lord!”—and he Sacred and safe and unseen, in the dark of thought of David’s transgression. the narrow chamber Bathsheba’s beautiful face, and his friend With me my secret shall lie, like a buried in the front of the battle! jewel that glimmers Shame and confusion of guilt, and abase- Bright on the hand that is dust, in the ment and self-condemnation, chambers of silence and darkness,-- Overwhelmed him at once; and he cried Yes, the marriage ring of the great es- in the deepest contrition: pousal hereafter!” “It hath displeased the Lord! It is the temptation of Satan!” Thus as he spake, he turned, in the strength of his strong resolution, Then uplifting his head, he looked at the Leaving behind him the shore, and hurried sea, and beheld there along in the twilight, Dimly the shadowy form of the Mayflower Through the congenial gloom of the forest riding at anchor, silent and somber, Rocked on the rising tide, and ready to Till he beheld the lights in the seven houses sail on the morrow; of Plymouth, Heard the voices of men through the mist, Shining like seven stars in the dusk and the rattle of cordage mist of the evening. Thrown on the deck, the shouts of the Soon he entered his door, and found the mate, and the sailors’ “Ay, ay, redoubtable Captain Sir!” Sitting alone, and absorbed in the martial Clear and distinct, but not loud, in the pages of Caesar, dripping air of the twilight. cherished and loved as a brother; Still for a moment he stood, and listened, You, who have fed at my board, and drunk Fighting some great campaign in Hainault at my cup, to whose keeping or Brabant or Flanders. I have intrusted my honor, my thoughts “Long have you been on your errand,” he the most sacred and secret,-- said with a cherry demeanor, You too, Brutus! ah woe to the name of Even as one who is waiting an answer, and friendship hereafter! fears not the issue. Brutus was Caesar’s friend, and you were “Not far off is the house, although the mine, but henceforward woods are between us; Let there be nothing between us save war, But you have lingered so long, that while and implacable hatred!” you were going and coming I have fought ten battles and sacked and So spake the Captain of Plymouth, and demolished a city. strode about in the chamber, Come, sit down, in order to relate to me Chafing and choking with rage; like cords all that has happened.” were the veins in his temples. But in the midst of his anger a man ap- Then John Alden spake, and related the peared in the doorway, wondrous adventure, Bringing un uttermost haste a message of From beginning to end, minutely, just as it urgent importance, happened; Rumors of danger and war and hostile in- How he had seen Priscilla, and how he had cursions of Indians! sped in his courtship, Straightway the Captain paused, and, with- Only smoothing a little, and softening down out further question or parley, her refusal. Took from the nail on the wall his sword But when he came at length to the words with its scabbard of iron, Priscilla had spoken, Buckled the belt round his waist, and, Words so tender and cruel: “Why don’t frowning fiercely, departed. you speak for yourself, John?” Alden was left alone. He heard the clank of Up leaped the Captain of Plymouth, and the scabbard stamped on the floor, till his armor Growing fainter and fainter, and dying away Clanged on the wall, where it hung, with a in the distance. sound of sinister omen. Then he arose from his seat, and looked All his pent-up wrath burst forth in a sudden forth into the darkness, explosion, Felt the cool air blow on his cheek, that E’en as a hand-grenade, that scatters de- was hot with the insult, struction around it. Lifted his eyes to the heavens, and, folding Wildly he shouted, and loud: “John Al- his hands as in childhood, den! you have betrayed me! Prayed in the silence of night to the Father Me, Miles Standish, your friend! have sup- who seeth in secret. planted, defrauded, betrayed me! One of my ancestors ran his sword through Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode the heart of Wat Tyler; wrathful away to the council, Who shall prevent me from running my Found it already assembled, impatiently own through the heart of a traitor? waiting his coming; Yours is the greater treason, for yours is a treason to friendship! There on the roof of the church, or is it to You, who lived under my roof, whom I shoot red devils? Men in the middle of life, austere and grave Truly the only tongue that is understood in deportment, by a savage Only one of them old, the hill that was Must be the tongue of fire that speaks from nearest to heaven, the mouth of a cannon!” Covered with snow, but erect, the excellent Thereupon answered and said the excellent Elder of Plymouth. Elder of Plymouth, God had sifted three kingdoms to find the Somewhat amazed and alarmed at this ir- wheat for this planting, reverent language; Then had sifted the wheat, as the living “Not so thought St. Paul, nor yet the other seed of a nation; Apostles; So say the chronicles old, and such is the Not from the cannon’s mouth were the faith of the people! tongues of fire they spake with!” Near them was standing an Indian, in atti- But unheeded fell this mild rebuke on the tude stern and defiant, Captain, Naked down to the waist, and grim and Who had advance to the table, and thus ferocious in aspect; continues discoursing: While on the table before them was lying “Leave this matter to me, for to me by unopened a Bible, right it pertaineth. Ponderous, bound in leather, brass-studded, War is a terrible trade; but in the cause printed in Holland. that is righteous, And beside it outstretched the skin of a Sweet is the smell of powder; and thus I rattlesnake glittered, answer the challenge!” Filled, like a quiver, with arrows; a signal and challenge of warfare, Then from the rattlesnake’s skin, with Brought by the Indian, and speaking with a sudden contemptuous gesture, arrowy tongues of defiance. Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with This Miles Standish beheld, as he entered, powder and bullets and heard them debating Full to the very jaws, and handed it back What were an answer befitting the hostile to the savage, message and menace, Saying, in thundering tones: “Here, take Talking of this and of that, contriving, sug- it! this is your answer!” gesting, objecting; Silently out of the room then glided the One voice only for peace, and that the glistening savage, voice of the Elder, Bearing the serpent’s skin, and seeming Judging it wise and well that some at least himself like a serpent, were converted, Winding his sinuous way in the dark to the Rather than any were slain, for this was depths of the forest. but Christian behavior! Then out spake Mile Standish, the stal- V wart Captain of Plymouth, The Sailing of the Mayflower Muttering deep in his throat, for his voice was husky with anger, Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists “What! do you mean to make war with uprose from the meadows, milk and the water of roses? Is it to shoot red squirrels you have your Consecrated with hymns the common cares howitzer planted of the household. There was a stir and a sound in the slum- Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows bering village of Plymouth; rejoiced at his coming; Clanging and clicking of arms, and the Beautiful on the sails of the Mayflower order imperative, “Forwards!” riding at anchor, Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, Battered and blackened and worn by all and then silence. the storms of the winter. Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly Loosely against her masts was hanging and out of the village. flapping her canvas, Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of Rent by so many gales, and patched by the his valorous army, hands of the sailors. Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, Suddenly from her side, as the sun rose over friend of the white men, the ocean, Northward marching to quell the sudden Darted a puff of smoke, and floated sea- revolt of the savage. ward; anon rang Giants they seemed in the mist, or the Loud over field and forest the cannon’s mighty men of King David; roar, and the echoes Giants in heart they were, who believed in Heard and repeated the sound, the signal- God and the Bible,-- gun of departure! Ay, who believed in the smiting of Midian- Ah! but with louder echoes replied the ites and Philistines. hearts of the people! Over them gleamed far off the crimson Meekly, in voices subdues, the chapter was banners of morning; read from the Bible, Under them loud on the sands, the serried Meekly the prayer was begun, but ended billows, advancing, in fervent entreaty! Fired along the line, and in regular order Then from their houses in haste came forth retreated. the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Men and women and children, all hurrying Many a mile had they marched, when at down to the sea-shore. length the village of Plymouth Eager, with tearful eyes, to say farewell to Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on the Mayflower, its manifold labors. Homeward bound o’er the sea, and leaving Sweet was the air and soft; and slowly the them here in the desert. smoke from the chimneys Rose over roofs of thatch, and pointed Foremost among them was Alden. All steadily eastward; night he had lain without slum- Men came forth from the doors, and paused ber, and talked of the weather, Turning and tossing about in the heat and Said that the wind had changed, and was unrest of his fever. blowing fair for the Mayflower; He had beheld Miles Standish, who came Talked of their Captain’s departure, and back late from the council, all the dangers that menaced, Stalking into the room, and heard him mut- He being gone, the town, and what should ter and murmur; be done in his absence. Sometimes it seemed a prayer, and some- Merrily sang the birds, and the tender times it sounded like swearing. voices of women Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a doorstep Once he had come to the bed, and stood Into a world unknown,— the corner-stone there a moment in silence; of a nation! Then he had turned away, and said “I will not wake him; There with his boat was the Master, Let him sleep on, it is best; for what is the already a little impatient use of more talking!” Lets he should lose the tide, or the wind Then he extinguished the light, and threw might shift to the eastward, himself down on his pallet, Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an Dressed as he was, and ready to start at odor of ocean about him, the break of the morning,-- Speaking with this one and that, and cram- Covered himself with the cloak he had ming letters and parcels worn in his campaigns in Flan Into his pockets capacious, and messages ders,-- mingled together Slept as a soldier sleeps in his bivouac, Into his narrow brain, till at last he was ready for action. wholly bewildered. But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot Alden behind him placed on the gunwale, Put on his corset of steel, and all the rest One still firm on the rock, and talking at of his armor, times with the sailors, Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of Seated erect on the thwarts, all ready and Damascus, eager for starting. Take from the corner his musket, and so He too was eager to go, and thus put an end stride out of the chamber. to his anguish, Often the heart of the youth had burned Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter and yearned to embrace him, than keel is or canvas, Often his lips had essayed to speak, im- Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost ploring for pardon; that would rise and pursue him. All the old friendship came back, with its But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld tender and grateful emotions; the form of Priscilla But his pride overmastered the nobler na- Standing dejected among them, unconscious ture within him,-- of all that was passing. Pride, and the sense of his wrong, and the Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she di- burning fire of insult. vined his intention, So he beheld his friends departing in anger, Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, but spake not, imploring and patient, Saw him go forth to danger, perhaps to That with a sudden revulsion his heart re- death, and he spake not! coiled from its purpose, Then he arose form his bed, and heard As from the verge of a crag, where one what the people were saying, step more its destruction. Joined in the talk at the door, with Stephen Strange is the heart of man, and fatal or and Richard and Gilbert, fated are moments, Joined in the morning prayer, and in the Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of reading of scripture, the wall of adamantine! And, with the others, in haste went hurrying down to the sea-shore, and flurry, Glad to be gone from a land of sand and “Here I will remain!” he exclaimed, as he sickness and sorrow, looked at the heavens above him, Short allowance of victual, and plenty of Thanking the Lord whose breath had scat- nothing but gospel! tered the mist and the madness, Lost in the sound of the oars was the last Wherein, blind and lost, to death he was farewell of the Pilgrims. staggering headlong. O strong hearts and true! not one went “Yonder snow-white cloud, that floats in back to the Mayflower! the ether above me, No, not one looked back, who had set his Seems like a hand that is pointing and beck- hand to this ploughing! oning over the ocean. Soon were heard on board the shouts There is another hand, that is not so spec- and songs of the sailors tral and ghost-like, Heaving the windlass round, and hoisting Holding me, drawing me back, and clasp- the ponderous anchor. ing mine for protection. Then the yards were braced, and all sails Float, O hand of cloud, and vanish away in set to the west-wind, the ether! Blowing steady and strong; and the Roll thyself up like a fist, to threaten and Mayflower sailed from the harbor, daunt me; I heed not Rounded the point of the Gurnet, and leav- Either your warning or menace, or any ing far to the southward omen of evil! Island and cape of sand, and Field of There is no land so sacred, no air so pure the First Encounter, and so wholesome, Took the wind on her quarter, and stood As is the air she breathes, and the soil that for the open Atlantic, is pressed by her footsteps. Borne on the send of the sea, and the swell- Here for her sake will I stay, and like an ing hearts of the Pilgrims. invisible presence Hover around her forever, protecting, sup- Long in silence they watched the receed- porting her weakness; ing sail of the vessel, Yes! as my foot was the first that stepped on Much endeared to them all, as something this rock at the landing, living and human; So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the Then, as if filled with the spirit, and wrapt last at the leaving!” in a vision prophetic, Baring his hoary head, the excellent Elder Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dig- of Plymouth nified air and important, Said, “Let us pray!” and they prayed, Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the and thanked the Lord and took wind and the weather, courage. Walked about on the sands, and the people Mournfully sobbed the waves at the base of crowded around him the rock, and above them Saying a few last words, and enforcing his Bowed and whispered the wheat on the careful remembrance. hill of death, and their kindred Then, taking each by the hand, as if he Seemed to awake in their graves, and to were grasping a tiller, join in the prayer that they ut- Into the boat he sprang, and in haste tered. shoved off to his vessel, What I ought not to have said, yet now I Glad in his heart to get rid of all this worry can never unsay it; Sun-illuminated and white, on the eastern For there are moments in life, when the verge of the ocean heart is so full of emotion, Gleamed the departing sail, like a marble That if by chance it be shaken, or into its slab in the graveyard; depths like a pebble Buried beneath it lay forever all hope of Drops some careless word, it overflows, and escaping. its secret, Lo! as they turned to depart, they saw the Spilt on the ground like water, can never form of an Indian, be gathered together. Watching them from the hill; but while Yesterday I was shocked, when I heard they spake with each other, you speak of Miles Standish, Pointing with outstretched hands, and say- Praising his courage and strength, and even ing “Look!” he had vanished. his fighting in Flanders, So they returned to their homes; but Alden As if by fighting alone you could win the lingered a little, heart of a woman, Musing alone on the shore, and watching Quite overlooking yourself and the rest, in the wash of the billows exalting your hero. Round the base of the rock, and the sparkle Therefore I spake as I did, by an irre- and flash of the sunshine, sistible impulse. Like the spirit of God, moving visibly over You will forgive me, I hope, for the sake the water. of the friendship between us, V Which is too true and too sacred to be so Priscilla easily broken!” Thereupon answered John Alden, the Thus for awhile he stood, and mused by scholar, the friend of Miles Stan- the shore of the ocean, dish: Thinking of many things, and most of all “I was not angry with you, with myself of Priscilla; alone I was angry, And as if thought had the power to draw Seeing how badly I managed the matter to itself, like the loadstone, I had in my keeping.” Whosoever it touches, by subtile laws of “No!” interrupted the maiden, with answer its nature, prompt and decisive; Lo! as he turned to depart, Priscilla was “No; you were angry with me, for speak- standing beside him. ing so frankly and freely. It was wrong, I acknowledge; for it is the “Are you so much offended, you will not fate of a woman speak to me?” said she. Long to be patient and silent, to wait like “Am I so much to blame, that yesterday, a ghost that is speechless, when you were pleading Till some questioning voice dissolves the Warmly the cause of another, my heart, spell of its silence. impulsive and wayward, Hence is the inner life of so many suffering Pleased your own, and spake out, forgetful women perhaps of decorum? Sunless and silent and deep, like subter- Certainly you can forgive me for speaking ranean rivers so frankly, for saying Thinking he never had seen her more fair, more divine in her beauty. Running through caverns of darkness, un- He who but yesterday pleaded so glibly the heard, unseen, and unfruitful, cause of another, Chafing their channels of stone, with end- Stood there embarrassed and silent, and less and profitless murmurs.” seeking in vain for an answer. Thereupon answered John Alden, the young So the maiden went on, and little divined man, the lover of woman: or imagined “Heaven forbid it, Priscilla; and truly What was at work in his heart, that made they seem to me always him so awkward and speechless. More like the beautiful rivers that watered “Let us, then, be what we are, and speak the garden of Eden, what we think, and in all things More like the river Euphrates, through Keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sa- deserts of Havilah flowing, cred professions of friendship. Filling the land with delight, and memories It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed sweet of the garden!” to declare it: “Ah, by these words, I can see,” again in- I have liked to be with you, to see you, to terrupted the maiden, speak with you always. “How very little you prize me, or care for So I was hurt at your words, and a little what I am saying. affronted to hear you When from the depths of my heart, in pain Urge me to marry your friend, though and with secret misgiving, he were the Captain Miles Stan- Frankly I speak to you, asking for sym- dish. pathy only and kindness, For I must tell you the truth: and much more Straightway you take up my words, that to me is your friendship are plain and direct and in ear- Than all the love he could give, were he nest, twice the hero you think him.” Turn them away from their meaning, and Then she extended her hand, and Alden, answer their faltering phrases. who eagerly grasped it, This is not right, it is not just, it is not true to Felt all the wounds in his heart, that were the best that is in you; aching and bleeding so sorely, For I know and esteem you, and feel that Healed by the touch of that hand, and he your nature is noble, said, with a voice full of feeling: Lifting mine up to a higher, a more ethereal “Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all level. who offer you friendship Therefore, I value your friendship, and feel Let me be ever the first, the truest, the it perhaps more keenly nearest and dearest!” If you say aught that implies I am only as one among many, Casting a farewell look at the glimmer- If you make use of those common and com- ing sail of the Mayflower, plimentary phrases Distant, but still in sight, and sinking be- Most men think so fine, in dealing and low the horizon, speaking with women, Homeward together they walked, with a But which women reject as insipid, if not strange, indefinite feeling, as insulting.” That all the rest had departed and left them alone in the desert. Mute and amazed was Alden; and lis- VII tened and looked at Priscilla, The March of Miles Standish But, as they went through the fields in the blessing and smile of the sunshine, Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish Lighter grew their hearts, and Priscilla was marching steadily northward, said very archly: Winding through forest and swamp, and Now that our terrible Captain has gone in along the trend of the sea-shore, pursuit of the Indians, All day long, with hardly a halt, the fire of Where he is happier far than he would be his anger commanding a household, burning and crackling within, and the sul- You may speak boldly, and tell me of all pherous odor of powder that happened between you, Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all When you returned last night, and said the scents of the forest. how ungrateful you found me.” Silent and moody he went, and much he Thereupon answered John Alden, and told revolved his discomfort; her the whole of the story,-- He who was used to success, and to easy Told her his own despair, and the direful victories always, wrath of Miles Standish. Thus to be flouted, rejected and laughed Whereat the maiden smiled, and said be- to scorn by a maiden, tween laughing and earnest, Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the “He is a little chimney, and heated hot in friend whom most he had trusted! a moment!” Ah! ‘t was too much to be borne, and he But as he gently rebuked her, and told her fretted and chafed in his armor! how he had suffered,-- How he had even determined to sail that “I alone am to blame,” he muttered, day in the Mayflower, “for mine was a folly. And had remained for her sake, on hearing What has a rough old soldier, grown grim the dangers that threatened,-- and gray in the harness, All her manner was changed, and she said Used to the camp and its ways, to do with with a faltering accent, the wooing of maidens? “Truly I thank you for this: how good you ‘T was but a dream,--let it pass,--let it have been to me always!” vanish like so many others! What I thought was a flower, it only a Thus, as a pilgrim devout, who toward weed, and it worthless; Jerusalem journeys, Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw Taking three steps in advance, and one it away, and henceforward reluctantly backward, Be but a fighter of battles, a lover and Urged by importunate zeal, and withheld wooer of dangers!” by pangs of contrition; Thus he revolved in his mind his sorry Slowly but steadily onward, receding yet defeat and discomfort, ever advancing, While he was marching by day or lying at Journeyed this Puritan youth to the Holy night in the forest, Land of his longings, Looking up at the trees, and the constella- Urged but the fervor of love, and withheld tions beyond them. by remorseful misgivings. Ready to be let loose, and destroy his brother the red man! After a three days’ march he came to an But when Standish refused, and said he Indian encampment would give them the Bible, Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between Suddenly changed their tone, they began the sea and the forest; to boast and to bluster. Women at work by the tents, and warriors, Then Wattawamat advanced with a stride horrid with war-paint, in front of the other, Seated about a fire, and smoking and talk- And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vaunt- ing together; ingly spake to the Captain: Who, when they saw from afar the sudden “Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery approach of the of the white men, eyes of the Captain, Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and Angry is he in his heart; but the heart of sabre and musket, the brave Wattawamat Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, Is not afraid at the sight. He was not from among them advancing, born of a woman, Came to parley with Standish, and offer him But on a mountain at night, from an oak- furs as a present; tree riven by lightening, Friendship was in their looks, but in their Forth he sprang at abound, with all his hearts there was hatred. weapons about him, Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers, Shouting, ‘Who is there here to fight with gigantic in stature, the brave Wattawamat?’” Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Then he unsheathed his knife, and whet- Og, king of Bashan; ting the blade on his left hand, One was Pecksuot named, and the other Held it aloft and displayed a woman’s face was called Wattawamat. on the handle; Round their necks were suspended their Saying, with bitter expression and look of knives in scabbards of wampum, sinister meaning: Two-edged, trenchant knives, with points as “I have another at home, with the face of sharp as a needle. a man on the handle; Other arms had they none, for they were By and by they shall marry; and there cunning and crafty. will be plenty of children!” “Welcome, English!” they said, --these words they had learned from the Then stood Pecksuot forth, self-vaunt- traders ing, insulting Miles Standish: Touching at times on the coast, to barter While with his fingers he patted the knife and chaffer for peltries. that hung at his bosom, Then in their native tongue they began to Drawing it half from its sheath, and plung- parley with Standish, ing it back, as he muttered, Through his guide and interpreter, Hobo- “By and by it shall see; it shall eat; ah, mok, friend of the white man, ha! but shall speak not! Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly This is the mighty Captain the white men for muskets and powder, have sent to destroy us! Kept by the white man, they said, con- He is a little man; let him go and work cealed, with the plague, in his cel- with the woman!” lars, unseen ran before it. Frightened the savages fled for shelter in Meanwhile Standish had noted the faces swamp and in thicket, and figures of Indians Hotly pursued and beset; but their sachem, Peeping and creeping about from the bush to the brave Wattawamat, tree in the forest, Fled not; he was dead. Unswerving and Feigning to look for game, with arrows set swift had a bullet on their bow-strings, Passed through his brain, and he fell with Drawing about him still closer and closer both hands clutching the green- the net of their ambush. sward, But undaunted he stood, and dissembled Seeming in death to hold back from his foe and treated them smoothly; the land of his fathers. So the old chronicles say, that were writ in the days of the fathers. There on the flowers of the meadow the But when he heard their defiance, the boast, warriors lay, and above them, the taunt, and the insult, Silent, with a folded arms, stood Hobomok, All the hot blood of his race, of Sir Hugh friend of the white man. and of Thurston de Standish, Smiling at length he exclaimed to the stal- Boiled and beat in his heart, and swelled in wart Captain of Plymouth:-- the veins of his temples. “Pecksuot bragged very loud, of his cour- Headlong he leaped on the boaster, and, age, his strength, and his stature, -- snatching his knife from its scab- Mocked the great Captain, and called him bard, a little man; but I see now Plunged it into his heart, and reeling back- Big enough have you been to lay him ward, the savage speechless before you!” Fell with his face to the sky, and a fiend- like fierceness upon it. Thus the battle was fought and won Straight there arose from the forest the by the stalwart Miles Standish. awful sound of the war-whoop. When the tidings therefore were brought to And, like a flurry of snow on the whistling the village of Plymouth, wind of December, And as a trophy of war the head of the Swift and sudden and keen came a flight brave Wattawamat of feathery arrows. Scowled from the roof of the fort, which at Then came a cloud of smoke, and out of once was a church and a fortress, the cloud came the lightening, Out of the lightening thunder; and death

All who beheld it rejoiced, and praised the Meanwhile Alden at home had built him Lord, and took courage. a new habitation, Only Priscilla averted her face from this Solid, substantial, of timber rough-hewn spectre of terror, from the firs of the forest. Thanking God in her heart that she had not Wooden-barred was the door, and the roof married Miles Standish; was covered with rushes; Shrinking, fearing almost, lest, coming Latticed the windows were, and the win- home from his battles, dow panes were of paper, He should lay claim to her hand, as the Oiled to admit the light, while wind and rain prize and reward of his valor. were excluded. There too he dug a well, and around it VIII planted an orchard: The Spinning Wheel Still may be seen to this day some trace of the well and the orchard. Month after month passed away, and in Close to the house was the stall, where, safe Autumn the ships of the merchants and secure from annoyance, Came with kindred and friends, with cattle Raghorn, the snow-white bull, that had and corn for the Pilgrims. fallen to Alden’s allotment All in the village was peace; the men were In the division of cattle, might ruminate in intent on their labors, the night-time Busy with hewing and building, with garden- Over the pastures he cropped, made fra- plot and with merestead, grant by sweet pennyroyal. Busy with breaking the glebe, and mowing the grass in the meadows, Oft when his labor was finished, with Searching the sea for its fish, and hunting eager feet would the dreamer the deer in the forest. Follow the pathway that ran through the All in the village was peace; but at times the woods to the house of Priscilla, rumor of warfare Led by illusions romantic and subtile Filled the air with alarm, and the appre- deceptions of fancy, hension of danger. Pleasure disguised as duty, and love in the Bravely the stalwart Standish was scouring semblance of friendship. the land with its forces, Ever of her he thought, when he fashioned Waxing valiant in fight and defeating the the wall of his dwelling; alien armies, Ever of her he thought, when he delved Till his name had become a sound of fear in the soil of his garden; to the nations. Ever of her he thought, when he read in Anger was still in his heart, but at times his Bible on Sunday the remorse and contrition Praise of the virtuous woman as she is Which in all noble natures succeed the pas- described in the Proverbs,-- sionate outbreak, How the heart of her husband doth safely Came like a rising tide, that encounters the trust in her always, rush of a river, How all the days of her life she will do him Staying its current awhile, but making it good, and not evil, bitter and brackish. How she seeketh the wool and the flax and worketh with gladness, How she layeth her hand to the spindle and holdeth the distaff, How she is not afraid of the snow for her- Praising the good old times, and the days self or her household, of Priscilla the spinner!” Knowing her household are clothed with Straight uprose from her wheel the beau- the scarlet cloth of her weaving! tiful Puritan maiden, Pleased with the praise of her thrift from So as she sat at her wheel one afternoon in him whose praise was the sweetest, the Autumn, Drew from the reel on the table a snowy Alden, who opposite sat, and was watching skein of her spinning, her dexterous fingers, Thus making answer, meanwhile, to the As if the thread she was spinning were that flattering phrases of Alden: of his life and his fortune, “Come, you must not be idle; if I am a After a pause in their talk, thus spake to pattern of housewives, the sound of the spindle. Show yourself equally worthy of being “Truly, Priscilla,” he said, “when I see the model of husbands, you spinning and spinning, Hold this skein on your hands, while I wind Never idle a moment, but thrifty and it, ready for knitting; thoughtful of others, Then who knows but hereafter, when fash- Suddenly you are transformed, are visibly ions have changed and manners, changed in a moment; Fathers may talk to their sons of the good You are no longer Priscilla, but Bertha old times of John Alden!” the Beautiful Spinner.” Thus, with a jest and a laugh, the skein on Here the light foot of the treadle grew his hands she adjusted, swifter and swifter; the spindle He sitting awkwardly there, with his arms Uttered an angry snarl, and the thread extended before him, snapped short in her fingers; She standing graceful, erect, and winding While the impetuous speaker, not heeding the thread from his fingers, the mischief, continued: Sometimes chiding a little his clumsy man- “You are the beautiful Bertha, the spinner, ner of holding, the queen of Helvetia; Sometimes touching his hands, as she dis- She whose story I read at a stall in the entangled expertly streets of Southampton, Twist or know in the yarn, unawares—for Who, as she rode on her palfrey, o’er how could she help it?— valley and meadow and moun- Sending electrical thrills through every tain, nerve in his body. Ever was spinning her thread from a distaff fixed to her saddle. Lo! in the midst of the scene, a breath- She was so thrifty and good, that her name less messenger entered, passed into a proverb. Bringing in hurry and heat the terrible So shall it be with your own, when the news form the village. spinning-wheel shall no longer Yes; Miles Standish was dead!—an Indian Hum in the house of the farmer, and fill had brought them the tidings,-- its chamber with music. Slain by a poisoned arrow, shot down in the Then shall the mothers, reproving, relate front of the battle, how it was in their childhood, Into an ambush beguiled, cut off with the whole of his forces;

All the town would be burned, and all the the tent of purple and scarlet, people be murdered! Issued the sun, the greatest High-Priest, in Such were the tidings of evil that burst on his garments resplendent, the hearts of the hearers. Holiness unto the Lord, in letters of light, Silent and statue-like stood Priscilla, her on his forehead, face looking backward Round the hem of his robe the golden bells Still at the face of the speaker, her arms and pomegranates. uplifted in horror; Blessing the world he came, and the bars But John Alden, upstarting, as if the barb of vapor beneath him of the arrow Gleamed like a grate of brass, and the sea Piercing the heart of his friend had struck at his feet was a laver! his own, and had sundered This was the wedding morn of Priscilla Once and forever the bonds that held him the Puritan maiden. bound as a captive, Friends were assembled together; the Elder Wild with excess of sensation, the awful and Magistrate also delight of his freedom, Graced the scene with their presence, and Mingled with pain and regret, unconscious stood like the Law and the Gospel, of what he was doing, One with the sanction of earth and one with Clasped, almost with a groan, the motion- the blessing of heaven. less form of Priscilla, Simply and brief was the wedding, as that Pressing her close to his heart, as forever of Ruth and of Boaz. his own, and exclaiming: Softly the youth and the maiden repeated “Those whom the Lord hath united, let no the words of betrothal, man put them asunder!” Taking each other for husband and wife in the Magistrate’s presence, Even as rivulets twain, from distant and After the Puritan way, and the laudable separate sources, custom of Holland. Seeing each other afar, as they leap from Fervently then, and devoutly, the excellent the rocks, and pursuing Elder of Plymouth Each one its devious path, but drawing nearer Prayed for the hearth and the home, that and nearer, were founded that day in affection, Rush together at last, at their trysting-place Speaking of life and of death, and implor- in the forest; ing Divine benedictions. So these lives that had run thus far in separate channels, Lo! when the service was ended, a form Coming in sight of each other, then swerv- appeared on the threshold, ing and flowing asunder, Clad in armor of steel, a somber and sor- Parted by barriers strong, by drawing rowful figure! nearer and nearer, Why does the bridegroom start and stare Rushed together at last, and was lost at the strange apparition? in the other. Why does the bride turn pale, and hide her face on his shoulder? IX Is it a phantom of air?—a bodiless, spectral The Wedding Day illusion? Is it a ghost from the grave, that has come Forth from the curtain of clouds, from to forbid the betrothal? Long has it stood there unseen, a guest If you would be well served, you must serve uninvited, unwelcomed; yourself; and moreover, Over its clouded eyes there had passed ay No man can gather cherries in Kent at the times and expression season if Christmas!” Softening the gloom and revealing the warm heart hidden beneath them, Great was the people’s amazement, and As when across the sky the driving rack of greater yet their rejoicing, the rain-cloud Thus to behold once more the sunburnt Grows for a moment thin, and betrays the face of their Captain, sun by its brightness. Whom they had mourned as dead; and they Once it had lifted its hand, and moved its gathered and crowded about him, lips, but was silent, Eager to see him and hear him. forgetful As if an iron will had mastered the fleeting of bride and of bridegroom, intention. Questioning, answering, laughing, and each But when were ended the troth and the interrupting the other, prayer and the last benediction, Till the good Captain declared, being quite Into the room it strode, and the people be- overpowered and bewildered, held with amazement He had rather break into an Indian Bodily there in his armor Miles Standish, the encampment, Captain of Plymouth! Than come again to a wedding to which he Grasping the bridegroom’s hand, he said had not been invited. with emotion “Forgive me! I have been angry and hurt,--to long Meanwhile the bridegroom went forth have I cherished the feeling; and stood with the bride at the I have been cruel and hard, but now, thank doorway, God! it is ended. Breathing the perfumed air of that warm Mine is the same hot blood that leaped n the and beautiful morning. veins of Hugh Standish, Touched with autumnal tints, but lonely Sensitive, swift to resent, but as swift in and sad in the sunshine, atoning for error. Lay extended before them the land of toil and Never so much as now was Miles Standish privation; the friend of John Alden.” There were the graves of the dead, and the Thereupon answered the bridegroom: “Let barren waste of the sea-shore, all be forgotten between us,-- There were the familiar fields, the groves of All save the dear old friendship, and that pine, and the meadows; shall grow older and dearer!” But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed Then the Captain advances, and, bowing, as the Garden of Eden, saluted Priscilla, Filled with the presence of God, whose Gravely, and after the manner of old-fash- voice was the sound of the ocean. ioned gentry of England, Something of camp and of court, of town Soon was their vision disturbed by the and of country, commingled, noise and stir of departure, Wishing her joy of her wedding, and loudly Friends coming forth from the house, and lauding her husband. impatient of longer delaying, Then he said with a smile: “I should have Each with his plan for the day, and the remembered the adage,-- work that was left uncompleted. Then from a stall near at hand, amid ex- Fresh with the youth of the world, and re- clamations of wonder, calling Rebecca and Isaac, Alden the thoughtful, the careful, so happy, Old and yet ever new, and simple and so proud of Priscilla, beautiful always, Brought out his snow-white bull, obeying Love immortal and young in the endless the hand of his master, succession of lovers. Led by a cord that was tied to an iron ring So onward the Plymouth woods passed in its nostrils, onward the bridal procession. Covered with crimson cloth, and a cushion placed for a saddle. She should not walk, he said, through the dust and heat of the noonday; Nay, she should ride like a queen, not plod along like a peasant. Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by the others, Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in the hand of her husband, Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted her palfrey. “Nothing is wanting now, “ he said with a smile, “but the distaff; Then you would be in truth my queen, my beautiful Bertha!”

Onward the bridal procession now moved to their new habitation, Happy husband and wife, and friends con- versing together. Pleasantly murmured the brook, as they crossed the ford in the forest, Pleased with the image that passed, like a dream of love, through its bosom, Tremulous, floating in air, o’er the depths of the azure abysses. Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendors, Gleaming on purple grapes, that, from branches above them suspended, Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of the pine and the fir-tree, Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in the valley of Eshcol. Like a picture it seemed of the primitive, pastoral ages,