by Lydia Maria Child

Then all this youthful paradise around, And all the broad and boundless mainland, lay Cooled by the interminable wood, that frowned O'er mount and vale.

Bryant

IN the summer of 1823, my friend ******* entered my study with an air which indicated he had something to communicate.

"Frederic," says he, "do you know I have been thinking of a new plan lately?"

"A wise one, no doubt," replied I; "but, prithee, what is it?"

"Why, to confess the truth, your friend P*******'s remarks concerning our early history, have half tempted me to write a New England novel."

"A novel!" quoth I -- "when Waverly is galloping over hill and dale, faster and more successful than Alexander's conquering sword? Even American ground is occupied. `The Spy' is lurking in every closet, -- the mind is every where supplied with `Pioneers' on the land, and is soon likely to be with `Pilots' on the deep."

"I know that," replied he; "Scott wanders over every land with the same proud, elastic tread -- free as the mountain breeze, and majestic as the bird that bathes in the sunbeams. He must always stand alone -- a high and solitary shrine, before which minds of humbler mould are compelled to bow down and worship. I did not mean," added he, smiling, "that my wildest hopes, hardly my wildest wishes, had placed me even within sight of the proud summit which has been gained either by Sir Walter Scott, or Mr. Cooper. I am aware that the subject which called forth your friend's animated observations, owed its romantic coloring almost wholly to his own rich imagination. Still, barren and uninteresting as New England history is, I feel there is enough connected with it, to rouse the dormant energies of my soul; and I would fain deserve some other epitaph than that `he lived and died.' "

I knew that my friend, under an awkward and unprepossessing appearance, concealed more talents than the world was aware of. I likewise knew that when he once started in the race, "the de'il take the hindmost" was his favorite motto. So I e'en resolved to favor the project, and to procure for him as many old, historical pamphlets as possible.

A few weeks after, my friend again entered my apartment, and gave me a package, as he said, "Here are my MSS., and it rests entirely with you, whether or not to give them to the public. You, and every one acquainted with our earliest history, will perceive that I owe many a quaint expression, and pithy sentence, to the old and forgotten manuscripts of those times.

"The ardour with which I commenced this task, has almost wholly abated.

"Seriously, Frederic, what chance is there that I, who so seldom peep out from `the loop-holes of retreat,' upon a gay and busy world, can have written any thing which will meet their approbation? Besides, the work is full of faults, which I have talents enough to see, but not to correct. It has indeed fallen far short of the standard which I had raised in my own mind. You well know that state of feeling, when the soul fixes her keen vision on distant brightness, but in vain stretches her feeble and spell-bound wing, for a flight so lofty. The world would smile," continued he, "to hear me talk thus, concerning a production, which will probably never rise to the surface with other ephemeral trifles of the day; -- but painful, anxious timidity must unavoidably be felt by a young author in his first attempt. However, I will talk no more about it. `What is writ, is writ -- would it were worthier.'

"If I succeed, the voice of praise will cheer me in my solitude. If I fail, thank Heaven, there is no one, but yourself, can insult me with their pity."

Perhaps the public may think me swayed by undue partiality, -- but after I had read my friend's MS. I wrote upon the outside, "Send it to the Printer."

How daur ye try sic sportin, As seek the foul thief ony place, For him to spae your fortune? Nae doubt but ye may get a sight! Great cause ye hae to fear it; For mony a ane has gotten a fright, An' liv'd and died deleeret.

Burns

I NEVER view the thriving villages of New England, which speak so forcibly to the heart, of happiness and prosperity, without feeling a glow of national pride, as I say, "this is my own, my native land." A long train of associations are connected with her picturesque rivers, as they repose in their peaceful loveliness, the broad and sparkling mirror of the heavens, -- and with the cultivated environs of her busy cities, which seem every where blushing into a perfect Eden of fruit and flowers. The remembrance of what we have been, comes rushing on the heart in powerful and happy contrast. In most nations the path of antiquity is shrouded in darkness, rendered more visible by the wild, fantastic light of fable; but with us, the vista of time is luminous to its remotest point. Each succeeding year has left its footsteps distinct upon the soil, and the cold dew of our chilling dawn is still visible beneath the mid-day sun. Two centuries only have elapsed, since our most beautiful villages reposed in the undisturbed grandeur of nature; -- when the scenes now rendered classic by literary associations, or resounding with the din of commerce, echoed nought but the song of the hunter, or the fleet tread of the wild deer. God was here in his holy temple, and the whole earth kept silence before him! But the voice of prayer was soon to be heard in the desert. The sun, which for ages beyond the memory of man had gazed on the strange, fearful worship of the Great Spirit of the wilderness, was soon to shed its splendor upon the altars of the living God. That light, which had arisen amid the darkness of Europe, stretched its long, luminous track across the Atlantic, till the summits of the western world became tinged with its brightness. During many long, long ages of gloom and corruption, it seemed as if the pure flame of religion was every where quenched in blood; -- but the watchful vestal had kept the sacred flame still burning deeply and fervently. Men, stern and unyielding, brought it hither in their own bosom, and amid desolation and poverty they kindled it on the shrine of Jevovah. In this enlightened and liberal age, it is perhaps too fashionable to look back upon those early sufferers in the cause of the Reformation, as a band of dark, discontented bigots. Without doubt, there were many broad, deep shadows in their characters, but there was likewise bold and powerful light. The peculiarities of their situation occasioned most of their faults, and atoned for them. They were struck off from a learned, opulent, and powerful nation, under circumstances which goaded and lacerated them almost to ferocity; -- and it is no wonder that men who fled from oppression in their own country, to all the hardships of a remote and dreary province, should have exhibited a deep mixture of exclusive, bitter, and morose passions. To us indeed, most of the points for which they so strenuously contended, must appear exceedingly absurd and trifling; and we cannot forbear a smile that vigorous and cultivated minds should have looked upon the signing of the cross with so much horror and detestation. But the heart pays involuntary tribute to conscientious, persevering fortitude, in what cause soever it may be displayed. At this impartial period we view the sound policy and unwearied zeal with which the Jesuits endeavored to rebuild their decaying church, with almost as much admiration as we do the noble spirit of reaction which it produced. Whatever merit may be attached to the cause of our forefathers, the mighty effort which they made for its support is truly wonderful; and whatever might have been their defects, they certainly possessed excellencies, which peculiarly fitted them for a van-guard in the proud and rapid march of freedom. The bold outlines of their character alone remain to us. The varying tints of domestic detail are already concealed by the ivy which clusters around the tablets of our recent history. Some of these have lately been unfolded in an old, worn-out manuscript, which accidentally came in my way. It was written by one of my ancestors who fled with the persecuted nonconformists from the Isle of Wight, and about the middle of June, 1629, arrived at Naumkeak on the eastern shore of Massachusetts. Every one acquainted with our early history remembers the wretched state in which they found the scanty remnant of their brethren at that place. I shall, therefore, pass over the young man's dreary account of sickness and distress, and shall likewise take the liberty of substituting my own expressions for his antiquated and almost unintelligible style.

"After a long and wearisome voyage," says he, "we gladly welcomed the peninsula of Shawmut, which, as it lay stretched out in the distance, proclaimed the vicinity of Naumkeak. But the winds seemed resolved to show the full extent of their tantalizing power. All the livelong day we watched the sails as they fluttered loosely round the mast, and listened to the hoarse creaking of the shrouds. Evening at length came on in her softened beauty; and I shall never forget the crowd of sensations which it brought upon my mind. I was in a new world, whose almost unlimited extent lay in the darkness of ignorance and desolation. Earth, sea, and air, seemed in a profound slumber, -- and not even the dash of the oar broke in upon their silence. A confusion of thoughts came over my mind, till I was lost and bewildered in their immensity. The scene around me owed nothing of its unadorned beauty to the power of man. He had rarely been upon these waves, and the records of his boasted art were not found in these deserts. I viewed myself as a drop in the vast ocean of existence, and shrunk from the contemplation of human nothingness. Thoughts like these flitted through my mind, till they were lost in dreaming indistinctness. The glittering forehead of the sun was just visible above the waves when I awoke. The wind being fair, the sails were soon spread, and our vessel passed through the waters with a rapid and exhilarating motion. Various accounts had reached us with regard to the New England plantations. The friends of the London company had represented it as a second Canaan; while Mr. Lyford, and other discontented members of the Plymouth church, spoke of it as bleak and sterile, -- the scene of tumultuous faction, and domineering zeal. During our voyage I had endeavored to balance these contradictory reports, and to prepare my mind for whatever the result might be; but my philosophy nearly forsook me when I saw our captain point to six miserable hovels, and proclaim that they constituted the whole settlement of Naumkeak. The scene altogether was far worse than my imagination had ever conceived. Among those who came down to the shore to meet us, there were but one or two who seemed like Englishmen. The remainder, sickly and half starved, presented a pitiful contrast to the vigorous and wondering savages who stood among them. I dashed a tear from my eye as the remembrance of England came before me, and jumping upon the beach, I eagerly sought out my old acquaintance, Mr. Conant. He gave me a cordial welcome; but after the numerous greetings had passed, as I slowly walked by his side, I thought his once cheerful countenance had assumed an unusual expression of harshness. He had indeed met with much to depress his native buoyancy of heart. In his younger days he had aspired to the hand of a wealthy and noble lady. Young, volatile, and beautiful, at an age when life seemed all cloudless before her, she left the magnificent halls of her father, and incurred his lasting displeasure by uniting her fortunes with her humble lover. Years rolled on, and misfortune and poverty became their lot. Frustrated in his plans, thwarted by his rivals, misanthropy and gloom sunk deep down into the soul of the disappointed man. It was then the spirit of God moved on the dark, troubled waters of his mind. The stream of life gushed from the fountain within him; but it received the tinge of the dark, turbid soil, through which it passed; and its clear, silent course became noisy amid the eddies of human pride. One by one all the associations connected with the religion of his fathers, were rent away, till kneeling became an abomination, and the prayers of his church a loathing. The arm of royal authority then held a firm grasp on the consciences of men, and England was no place for him who spoke against the religion of his king. So their children were called together, and the gay young beauty who had sparkled awhile in the court of king James, slept in a rude shelter on a foreign soil. Two boys, the pride of their father's heart, had fallen victims to sickness and famine; and their youngest little blooming fairy had been lately recalled from the home which her grandfather's pity had offered, to watch the declining health of her mother. But the love of woman endured through many a scene of privation and hardship, even after the character of its object was totally changed; and the rigid Calvinist, in that lone place, surrounded by his lovely family, seemed like some proud magnolia of the south, scathed and bared of its leaves, adorned with the golden flowers of the twining jessamine.

"Breakfast was on the board when I first entered, and after the usual salutations had passed, I with several of my companions, sat down to partake of it. It consisted only of roasted pumpkin, a plentiful supply of clams, and coarse cakes made of pounded maize. But unpalatable as it proved, even to me, it was cheerfully partaken by the noble inmates of that miserable hut. As for Mary, her eye sparkled as brightly, and the rich tones of her voice were as merry, as they could have been when her little aerial foot danced along the marble saloon of her grandfather. My eye rested on her, with a painful mixture of sadness and admiration, as in rapid succession she inquired about the scenes of her youth. Even the rough sailors, who were with me, softened their rude tones of voice, and paid to gentleness and beauty the involuntary tribute of respect. Whether the father felt any uneasiness as to the effect of this silent flattery on the young heart of his daughter, or whether habitual asperity had triumphed over natural affection I know not; but he replied in an angry tone, "Wherefore, Mary, do you ask about those, who bow the knee to Baal, and utter the mummery of common prayer? Methinks it is enough that the hawk has already brought hither a sprig from their tree of corruption, wherewithal to beguile your silly heart."

A blush, which seemed to partake of something more unpleasant than mere embarrassment, passed over the face of the maiden as she answered, "It surely is not strange that I should think often of places where I have enjoyed so much, and should now be tempted to ask questions concerning them, of those who have knowledge thereof."

"Aye, aye," replied the stern old man, "encamped as you are in Elim, beside palm-trees and fountains, you are no doubt looking back for the flesh-pots of Egypt. You'd be willing enough to leave the little heritage which God has planted here, in order to vamp up your frail carcase in French frippery. But I would have you beware, young damsel. Wot ye not that the idle follower of Morton, who was drowned in yonder bay, was inwardly given to the vain forms of the church of England? -- and know ye not, that was the reason his God left him, and Satan became his convoy?"

His voice grew louder towards the close, and I saw Mrs. Conant lay her hand upon his, with a beseeching look. Her husband understood the meaning, for he smiled half reluctantly, and rejoined in a subdued tone, "You know it is enough to provoke any body who has a conscience." I was at the time surprised at his sudden change of manner; but during the whole of my intercourse with him afterwards, I noticed that a spirit of tenderness toward his sick wife had survived the wreck of all his kindest feelings. It was indeed but oil upon the surface. The stream pursued its own course, and a moment after it would boil and fret at every obstruction. Willing to change the current of his thoughts, I asked whether he had tobacco.

"No," replied he; "but I believe neighbour Oldham hath some; and I will straightway send to him. But by the way, I have been thinking you'd bring us a stock. To my mind, among all king James' blunders with regard to his colonies, (and they were many, God rest his soul,) he never committed a greater, than that of discountenancing the culture of the `base weed tobacco.' "

"We have a little on board," answered I, "but we have especial orders to see that none be planted in the colony, unless it be some small quantity for mere necessity, and for physic to preserve health, and that is to be partaken by ancient men, and none other."

My friend looked as if he disliked such tokens of restraint. He even went so far as to whisper in my ear, that the "colonies would never do well as long as their prosperity could be hindered by their papistical step-mother from the court of France; and that to be uxorious was a very virtuous vice among common folks, but a very vicious and impolitic virtue in a king."

There were several sailors present who were soon to return to the mother country, and there was little safety in speaking aloud of the king's blind and foolish passion for his Romish queen. So I was fain to speak of the good wishes of my sovereign, and to lament their decrease of numbers, and their late dissatisfaction with the Plymouth elders.

"I have little to say about our troubles," replied Mr. Conant; "but as for numbers, the besom of disease and famine hath been among us, and we are now as an olive tree `with two or three berries in the top of the uppermost bough, four or five in the outmost fruitful branches thereof.' The Lord's will be done. He hath begun his work, and he will finish it. But it grieveth me to see the strange slips which are set upon our pleasant plants; and when I think thereof, I marvel not that they wither."

"I have heard that Mr. Brown and his brother have been among you some weeks," said I, -- "forasmuch as they are staunch Episcopalians, you may refer to them."

"Whom should I mean," rejoined he, "but the two men who like Nabab and Abihu have offered strange incense to the Lord, which he commanded them not? Verily, in due time he will send forth his fire and destroy them from the face of the earth."

As I saw the tears start in Mary's eyes, I felt a vague suspicion that the conversation was, in some way or other, painful to her; and I perceived that the entrance of Mr. Oldham with his tobacco was a relief to her.

"Ah," said the jocular old man, "it's a discrepant way of doing business, to put a neighbour's paw into the fire, instead of helping one's self. Here's Good-man Conant would fain have a fair name on 'tother side the water; but after all, he hath much likeness to Rachel of old, only he keepeth the images in another's tent. But come, let's fill a pipe and talk of byepast times."

All that I could relate concerning our godly brethren in Europe, was amply repaid by Mr. Oldham's humorous description of his own wanderings, mistakes, and sufferings. I had heard that he would speak of his own disgraces with the most shameless effrontery, and laugh at them more loudly than any other man; and I knew that many pious men had doubted the vitality of his religion, and had felt themselves darkened by intercourse with him; -- but although I was shocked at the blasphemous lightness of his speech, I could hardly refrain from countenancing his ludicrous expressions and gestures by a smile.

"I can give you no idea of that guantlet at Plymouth," said he, "when I passed through a band as long as the laws of the Levites, and every man gave me a tug with the butt of his musket. But after all you may think, it was a season of comfortable outpouring. Two passages of Scripture came to my mind, and I was gifted with great light thereupon. David hath it, `By thee have I passed through a troop;' -- and Amos speaketh at a time when, `If a man fled from a lion, a bear met him; and if he laid his hand upon the wall, a serpent bit him.' Well, it was much the same with me: but as I told you, it was a time of great light, though it was nothing like the first dawning. I'll tell you how that was. I was sitting thus, with my mug of flip before me, and one hand upon each knee, looking straight into the fire, when suddenly I bethought that I was like that smoking brand, with none to pluck it from the burning. So I took a draught of the good stuff, and all at once a light streamed around me, ten times brighter than the earl of Warwick's big lamp."

"Hush," said Mr. Conant. "I cannot have you profane the mysteries of godliness after this fashion. You may mean well, -- God grant that you say it not in a spirit of devilish mirth, but forasmuch as you are in my house, I would beg of you to forbear such discourse."

I willingly omit the altercation which followed, which is given at full length in the manuscript; and I likewise pass over the detailed business of the day, such as the unlading of vessels, the delivery of letters, &c. &c., and lastly the theological discussions of the evening.

After much holy and edifying discourse, continues the narration, the family had all retired to rest. But notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, my conflicting feelings would not suffer me to sleep. At length, wearied with the effort, I arose from the bed of straw, and cautiously lifting the wooden latch, I stepped into the open air. As I stood gazing on the reflection of the moon, which reposed in broken radiance on the bay beyond, I tried to think soberly of the difficulties to which I and my oppressed brethren were exposed, and to decide how far I could conscientiously purchase peace and prosperity by conforming to mummeries which my soul detested. Human weakness prompted me to return, and again, when I had most decidedly concluded to stay in New England, the childish witchery of Mary Conant would pass before me, and I felt that the balance was weighed down by earthly motives. I looked out upon the surrounding scenery, and its purity and stillness were a reproach upon my inward warfare. The little cleared spot upon which I was placed, was every where surrounded by dark forests, through which the distant water was here and there gleaming, like the fitful flashes of reason in a disordered mind; and the trees stood forth in all the beauty of that month which the Indians call the "moon of flowers." By degrees the tranquil beauty of the scene, and the mysterious effect of the heavenly host performing their silent march in the far-off wilderness of light, called up the spirit of devotion within me; -- and at that moment, forgetful of forms, I knelt to pray that my heart might be kept from the snares of the world.

A shadow was for one moment cast across the bright moonlight; and a slender figure flitted by the corner of the house. All that I had heard of visitants from other worlds fell coldly on my heart. For a while, I was afraid to ascertain the cause of my fear; but after the person had proceeded a few hesitating steps, she paused and looked back, as if apprehensive of danger. The rays of the full moon rested on her face, and I at once perceived that it was Mary Conant. Had my first fears been realized, I know not that I should have felt more surprise. Among all my conjectures, I could not possibly imagine for what purpose she could be making an excursion at that lonely hour of the night. I remembered the hint, which her father had given, concerning the beguilement of her silly heart, and I could not but suspect that this walk was, in some way or other, connected with the young Episcopalian. Whatever was her project, she seemed half fearful of performing it; for she cast a keen, searching glance behind, and a long, fearful look, at the woods beneath, before she plunged into the thicket. After a moment's consideration, I resolved to follow her, and stepping from behind the tree which had afforded me concealment, I cautiously proceeded along the path which she had taken. She had stopped near a small brook, and when I first discovered her, she had stooped beside it, and taking a knife from her pocket, she opened a vein in her little arm, and dipping a feather in the blood, wrote something on a piece of white cloth, which was spread before her. She rose with a face pale as marble, and looking round timidly, she muttered a few words too low to meet my ear; then taking a stick and marking out a large circle on the margin of the stream, she stept into the magic ring, walked round three times with measured tread, then carefully retraced her steps backward, speaking all the while in a distinct but trembling voice. The following were the only words I could hear,

Whoever's to claim a husband's power, Come to me in the moonlight hour.

Whoe'er my bridegroom is to be, Step in the circle after me.

She looked round anxiously as she completed the ceremony; and I almost echoed her involuntary shriek of terror, when I saw a young Indian spring forward into the centre.

"What for makes you afraid of Hobomok," said the savage, who seemed scarcely less surprised than herself.

"Wherefore did you come hither," replied the maiden, after the tones of his voice had convinced her that he was real flesh and blood.

"Hobomok much late has been out to watch the deer tracks," answered the Indian; "and he came through the hollow, that he might make the Manitto Asseinah* green as the oak tree."

As he spoke this he threw a large bough upon the heap of rocks to which he had pointed, and looking up to the moon, he uttered something in the Indian tongue, which seemed like a short incantation or prayer. Just as he turned to follow Mary, who was retreating from the woods, a third person made his appearance, in whom I thought I recognized young Brown, specified by Mr. Conant as the strange slip on their pleasant plants. Mary eagerly caught his arm, and seemed glad amid her terror and agitation, to seek the shelter of his offered protection. A few friendly words of recognition passed between him and the savage, and the young couple proceeded homewards. A mixed feeling of diffidence and delicacy, had induced me to remain concealed from Mary while I watched over her safety; and the same feeling prompted me to continue where I was until she and her favoured lover were far out of sight and hearing. Hobomok looked after them with a mournful expression of countenance, as he said, "Wonder what for be here alone when the moon gone far away toward the Iroquois. What for sqaw no love like white woman." He stood silent for a short time, and then, taking a large knife from his belt, he cut down two young boughs from the adjoining trees, and threw them, one after another, on the sacrifice heap of his God, as he muttered, "Three times much winnit Abbamocho* said; three times me do."

It seemed but an instant after, that the sound of his heavy tread was lost in the distance.

In court or hamlet, hut or grove, Where woman is, there still is love. Whate'er their nation, form, or feature, Woman's the same provoking creature.

-- M. S.

A letter from Governor Craddock to Governor Endicott, which had reached them the April before, had given them timely notice of the intended recruits; in which were the following orders. "The desire of the London Company is that you doe endeavour to gett convenient houseings for the cattell against they doe come; and withal we doe desire whatever bever or fishe can be gotten readie. There hath nott bine a tyme for sale of tymber, these twoe seven years, like unto the present; therefore pittie the shipps should come backe emptye. I wish alsoe that there bee some sassafras and sassaparilla sent us, alsoe goode store of shoemacke, silke grasse, and aught else that may bee useful for dyinge or physicke."

To comply with these various orders, necessarily produced a good deal of hurry and bustle in the infant settlement; and for a long while the sound of the axe was busy and strong among them. And when at length the expected vessels did arrive, and their fine flock of horses, cows, sheep, and goats were well provided for, there was still enough to employ the kindhearted and healthy, in administering comfort and support to those who had landed among them, weary and sick unto death. My ancestor had already witnessed many of his companions depart this life, exulting that though they were absent from kindred and friends, they were going far beyond the power and cruelty of prelates. Wearied with the wretchedness of the scene, on the 28th of June he departed from Naumkeak, which had now taken the name of Salem, in memory of the peaceful asylum which it it afforded the fugitives. Whether the suspicion of Mary's attachment had any thing to do with the old bachelor's final arrangements, he saith not; but when he again visited America, although he brought a young wife with him, I find he has not failed to speak of her wayward fate with frequent and deep-toned interest.

These brief and scattered hints have now become almost illegible from their age and uncouth spelling, and it was with difficulty I extracted from them materials for the following story. -- In a situation so remote, and circumscribed, it may well be supposed that the arrival or departure of a vessel was considered as an affair of great importance, and felt through every fibre of the community. On the occasion I have just referred to, most of the white people from the neighbouring settlements had collected on the beach, together with an almost equal number of the dark children of the forest. Mary had sprung upon a jutting rock, and her sylph-like figure afforded a fine contrast to the decaying elegance of her mother, who was leaning on her arm, the cheerful countenance of Mr. Oldham's buxom daughter, and the tall, athletic form of Hobomok, who stood by her side, resting his healthy cheek upon the hand which supported his bow. By them, and all the motley group around them, the departure of the English vessel was viewed with keen, though varied emotion. The uniform gloom of Mr. Conant's countenance received for one moment a deeper tinge. It was but a passing shadow of human weakness, quickly succeeded by a flush of conscious exultation. His wife, who had left a path all blooming with roses and verdure, and cheerfully followed his rugged and solitary track, pressed back the ready tears, as the remembrance of England came hurrying on her heart. Mary's eyes overflowed with the intense, unrestained gush of youthful feeling. But amid all the painful associations of that moment, the deep interest displayed by my ancestor did not pass unnoticed; and surely the vanity which prompted a lingering look of kindness, might be forgiven, in one growing up in almost unheeded loveliness. "Farewell," said she, as she placed a letter in his hand. "Give this to my grandfather; and many, many kind wishes to good old England."

"Yes," interrupted her father, "many kind wishes to the godly remnant who are among them. And since Naumkeak has become old enough to receive a christian name, say ye to them that `in Salem is his tabernacle, and his dwelling-place in Zion. Here he will break the arrows of the bow, the shield, the sword, and the battle.' But to them who are yet given to the pride of prelacy, and the abomination of common prayer, and likewise to them who are weather-waft up and down with every eddying wind of every new doctrine, say ye to them, that their damnation sleepeth not, and the mist of darkness is reserved for them forever, being of old ordained to condemnation."

This speech was fiercely answered by a dark, lowering looking savage, who stood among the crowd.

"That is Corbitant," said Mary, -- "What is it that he says?"

"Your father say Indian arrow be broken at Naumkeak," replied Hobomok, -- "Corbitant say the feather be first red with white man's blood."

He would have added more, but the vessels were now sweeping past the rock on which they stood, and every eye was fixed on their motion. Many a hearty salutation, and blunt compliment were paid to Sally Oldham, and many a hat was waved in respectful adieu to Mrs. Conant and her daughter. The loud response which the sailors gave to the kind farewells of their friends on shore, was soon lost in the distance, and one by one the people slowly dispersed. Mrs. Conant took the arm of her husband, and Mary lingered far behind, in hopes of obtaining a conference with Sally Oldham. But one Mr. Thomas Graves seemed to have been deeply smitten with the comely countenance of the latter damsel; and never for a moment doubting that the fascination was reciprocal, he became somewhat obtrusively officious. It was singular to observe the difference of deportment between him and the Indian. Whenever Hobomok gazed upon Mary, it was with an expression in which reverence was strikingly predominant. And now, with more than his usual taciturnity, he walked at a short distance before them, and eagerly pointed with his bow, when it was necessary to obviate any little difficulties in their path. But he from the Isle of Wight, seemed resolved that one of the young ladies should be aware of the presence of a noisy admirer, and with abundance of stammering awkwardness, he began, "You are Mr. Oldham's daughter, I think?"

"I have been told so, sir," replied the mischievous girl.

"The world is dark and dismal enough in any place," continued the man of a wo-begone countenance, -- "more especially when we think of the regiments of sin which are marching up and down in its borders; but I should think it would be ten times darker to a well-favored young woman, here in this wilderness."

"If you mean me," answered the maiden, "I pass my time merry enough, in the long run; but there is no danger of our forgetting the dolors while we have your visage amongst us."

"I sha'nt be called to give an account of my looks," replied the offended suitor, "inasmuch as God made them in such form and likeness as pleased him. But I perceive you have no savor of goldliness about you, and are clean carried away by the crackling thorns of worldly mirth."

"My friend is like Rachel of old," interrupted her smiling companion. "She feedeth her cattle and draweth them water, and waiteth for some Jacob to journey hither."

"And what would you say, damsel, if he were at your very door," rejoined Mr. Graves, with an uncouth distension of his jaws, which was doubtless meant for one of love's gentle, insinuating smiles. "And when Jacob knew Rachel he kissed her," continued he, as he courageously put his arm round her neck, to suit his action to the words.

"I have had enough of that from the sanctified Mr. Lyford," said the resolute maiden, as she gave him a blow, which occasioned a sudden and involuntary retreat.

"Well done, Sally," said the hoarse voice of her father, who just then stept from among the trees, half choked with laughter, and for a moment forgetful of the decorum which he usually maintained in her presence. "Why, fellow, thou'rt smitten indeed; but it ill beseemeth thee to put on a rueful face at this disaster. The damsel is not worth the tears, which an onion draweth forth."

Sally gladly left her discomfited lover to recover himself as he could, and bidding a hasty good-morning to Hobomok, as he stood laughing and muttering to himself, she followed Mary, who with an air of girlish confidence had beckoned her into a narrow footpath which led through the woods. For a few moments the girls united in almost convulsive fits of laughter.

"Did you ever see such a fellow?" said Sally. "Every day since they landed, he has been at my elbow, trying to make love by stammering and stuttering about the crackling thorns of worldly mirth; and I verily think he believes that I have been greatly delighted therewith. A plague on all such sanctified looking folks. There was Mr. Lyford, (I don't care if he was a minister) he was always talking about faith and righteousness, and the falling-off of the Plymouth elders, and yet many a sly look and word he'd give me, when his good-woman was out of the way. I marvel that fools can always find utterance, inasmuch as some men of sense are so dumb."

"Men of sense will speak all in good time, if you will wait patiently," answered Mary. "But you don't know how glad I am that it happened to be your father, instead of mine, who saw you strike Mr. Graves."

"So am I," replied her companion. "Though he is your father, to my thinking he is over fond of keeping folks in a straight jacket; and I'm sure our belt is likely to be buckled tight enough by the great folks there in London. In my poor judgment it is bad enough that we've come over into this wilderness to find elbow room for our consciences, without being told how long a time we may have to stop and breathe in. Every bout I knit in my stocking is to be set down in black and white, and sent over to the London Company forsooth. I suppose by and by the drops we drink and the mouthfuls we eat must be counted, and their number sent thither."

"I am sure," replied Mary, "when you remember how many Indians we have lately met, whom Morton's unthinking wickedness has armed with powder and firelocks, you will be glad that we have three hundred more defenders around us, whatever price we may pay therefor. Indeed Sally, I'm weary of this wilderness life. My heart yearns for England, and had it not been for my good mother, I would gladly have left Naumkeak to-day."

"I can't but admire ye've been content so long, Miss Mary, considering what ye left behind you. If you'd staid there, who knows but you might have been Lady Lincoln? But as for this purlieu of creation, I know of no chance a body has for a husband, without they pick up some stray Narraganset, or wandering Tarateen."

"O, don't name such a thing," said Mary, shuddering.

"Why, what makes you take me in earnest?" answered Sally. "But perhaps since there are so many young folks to pick and choose among, you'll be weary of my crackling mirth, as that stupid Graves calls it."

"No, Sally, these new comers won't make me forget how kind you have always been in sickness and health; but, to tell you the truth, there is something troubles me -- and if you'll promise not to tell of it, I'll tell you."

"O, I'll promise that, and keep it too. If I was disposed to tell your secrets, I don't know any body but owls and bats I should tell them too."

"Well then, you must know, the other night I did a wicked thing. It frightens me to think thereof. You know the trick I told you about? Well, a few weeks ago, I tried it; and just as I was saying over the verses the third time, Hobomok, the Indian, jumped into the circle."

"Hobomok, the Indian!"

"Yes; -- and I screamed when I saw him."

"I believe so indeed. But was it he, real flesh and blood?"

"It was he himself; though I thought at first, it must be his ghost?"

"But how came he there, at that time of night?"

"That's more than I can tell. He said he came to throw a bow on the sacrifice heap, down in Endicott's hollow; but I don't know what should put it into his head just at that time. What do you suppose did?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Mary. I think it is an awful wicked thing to try these tricks. There's no telling what may come of asking the devil's assistance. He is an acquaintance not so easily shook off, when you've once spoke with him, to my certain knowledge. My father says he's no doubt the Lord has given Beelzebub power to choose many a damsel's husband, to recompense her for such like wickedness. I'm sure I have been curious enough to know, but I never dared to speak to Satan about the matter."

"I believe it is a sin to be repented of; but what could I do? Father won't suffer me to see Charles any where, if he can help it; and if I dared to be disobedient to him, I wouldn't do it while my poor mother was alive, for I know it would break her heart. But there are two things more about this affair which puzzle me. Just as I came out of the hollow, I met Charles. He said he dreamed I was in danger there, and he could not help coming to see whether I was there or not. So I told him how foolish I had been, and he laughed, and said he should be my husband after all. But the strangest thing of all, is, that Englishman you saw me give a letter to, to-day, whispered in my ear never to try a trick again, for fear worse should come of it. I wonder how he knew any thing concerning it?"

"Likely as not, he followed you. Or may be Hobomok told him. But I am glad Mr. Brown dreamed about it. After all, I guess he is to be the one; and Hobomok only came that way after some stray fox or squirrel he caught sight of."

"I don't know how it was," replied Mary, with a deep sigh. "I suppose I must submit to whatever is fore-ordained for me. Folks who have the least to do with love are the best off. The longer you keep as free from it as you are now, the happier you"ll be."

"May be you don't know how free that is," rejoined Sally. "If you had half an eye for other folks' affairs, you would remember something about a young man in Plymouth who used to help me milk my cows, inasmuch as you have often heard me speak of him. Do you know I spoke to him on the beach this morning? I should have had a good opportunity to have seen him again, if it had not been for that everlasting fellow, talking about `crackling thorns;' I would not care an'he had one of them in his tongue. Howsomever, if I guess right concerning Mr. Collier, he didn't come up to see the cattle. But I can't stop to say any more, for the cows an't milked yet; and now these new orders have come from London, and there are so many sick folks from the vessels, we shall have enough to do. So, good bye," said the roguish damsel, as she sprung over the log inclosure, into her father's farm-yard.

I would not wish Any companion in the world but you; Nor can imagination form a shape, Beside yourself, to like of.

Tempest

Notwithstanding her increase of avocations, and the many wearisome nights she had spent in tending the sick who had come among them, there was no one more heartily rejoiced at the new order of things than Sally Oldham, whom I find mentioned in the manuscript as "a promp and jolly damsell, much given to lightnesse of speeche, but withal virtuous." The merry maiden, amid all the labours and privations necessarily attendant upon their lonely situation at Plymouth, had found means to put on the airs of rustic coquetry with considerable success; and therefore she had felt no little regret when her father's passionate and unjustifiable conduct toward the ruling elders, had subjected him to the shameful punishment referred to in the first chapter, and driven his family from their comparatively comfortable home. Her only consolation during this period was in recounting to Mary the numerous acts of gallantry she had received from her Plymouth lovers. The young man whom she had seen upon the beach, on the morning of the 28th, had a kinder remembrance than all his competitors; and when she heard that he had walked from Plymouth, with Hobomok for his guide, in the true spirit of female vanity, she judged that nothing but her own pretty face was the object of his journey. Still it seemed she had some fears about his diffidence, for when she had taken her milking-pail and quietly seated herself beside the miserable pile of logs and boughs, which she dignified with the name of a cowhouse, she muttered to herself, "I wish Collier was a little easier to take a hint." Her cogitations were interrupted by a well known voice, which had become associated in Sally's mind with nought but "the crackling of thorns." "What brought you hither, Mr. Graves?" inquired the maiden.

"I thought," replied he, as he stood scratching his head with one hand, and holding out the other in token of amity, "I thought, may be, you'd repent your rashness this morning, inasmuch as husbands don't grow on every tree in these deserts."

Notwithstanding this cogent argument, well backed with humble gestures, the offered peace was rejected; and his clammy hand remained awkwardly upraised in the air, like the quivering claw of a dying lobster.

"I tell you sir," rejoined the angry damsel, "that I am weary of your unsavory discourse; and if husbands like you, grew by hundreds on the lowest boughs of the trees, they might stay there till doomsday before I'd stop to pluck 'em therefrom."

"But you'll let me take the milk across for you," continued the persevering suitor, as she stept upon a narrow board that was laid across a deep ditch. Sally, in the wickedness of her heart, held out the pail to him; but just as he was in the act of taking it, she managed by a gentle motion, to place him ancle-deep in the mud below; then turning round for an instant, with a loud and provoking laugh, she soon disappeared.

As Mr. Graves rose, and struck off the mud from his clothes, he murmured, "It is plain she is given over to a reprobate mind;" and it was noticed he never afterwards darkened Mr. Oldham's dwelling.

To Sally the day seemed to pass tardily away, for she had predicted, that the evening would bring a visit from Mr. Collier; and accordingly the manuscript states, that "the curtains of nighte were but halfe shut, when he seated himselfe beside Mr. Oldham, who was turning down many a dropp of the bottell, and burning tobacco with all the ease he could, discoursing between whiles of the dolorous beginning of the settlement, when their cups of beer ran as small as water in a sandie landie, and they were forced to lengthene out their own foode with acorns; and anon talking of the greate progress they would make with their fellowe labourers, now the summer sun had changed the earth's white-furred gowne into a green mantell."

"I must say," observed the young man, "that it is a bosom-breaking thing to me, when I think the gulf atween us and old England is too wide to leap over with a lope-staff. I am the last who would put my hand to the plough, and then look back; but I must say, could I have cast up, in the beginning, what this wilderness work would have cost us, I should have been staggered much, and very hardly have set sail."

"Why, to my thinking, Mr. Collier," replied Oldham, "England is no place now-a-days for christian folks to live within. They talk about their reformed church, but I tell you their bishops, their deans, and their deacons, are all whelps from the Roman litter; and tame 'em as you can, the nature of the beast will shew itself. It is a sad pity that king Charles (I mean no disrespect to his majesty) should suffer those black coats from the ninneversities to get upon his royal back -- I trow they'll ride him to destruction. But, as I was saying, England is full of malignant enemies to the true faith; and after all, a body can as pithily practise the two great precepts of the gospel in this, as well as in any other place; which precepts I take to be mortification and sanctification."

"Nobody can doubt there is room enough to practise the first, father," interrupted Sally, who had all along been quietly knitting in the corner, and who had begun to be weary of such sober discourse.

"You talk like a prating ideot, as you are," replied her father, furiously. "What with your own hankering after French gew-gaws, and the grand stories of your Moabitish companion, you have your head clean turned from sound sense and sober godliness."

"You know, Goodman," rejoined his wife, "that howsomever gracious and obedient our children may be, there have been no small hardships during our sojourning here, both for their young hearts and limbs too. Besides, Sally is included in the covenant with her parents, and to my mind, no member of Christ's body should be wrested from his church by harsh words."

"You utter the sayings of a foolish woman," answered her angry spouse. "I'm far from being clear whether the covenant we entered into is binding. Them ruling elders there at Plymouth, brought an abundance of pragmatical zeal, and rigid separation from the Netherlands. They've clapped a vizor on their own traditions, and placed them cheek-by-jowl with revealed truth; and many an honest man will be puzzled to distinguish 'em therefrom. And still more am I in the dark whether this stray imp, laughing with every idle fellow she meets, (the better for her that she meets few of them)" -- Just at that moment, recollecting the discomfiture of Mr. Graves, his natural propensity to fun overcame his resentment, and he placed both his hands upon his sides, and burst into a broad laugh. The look of surprise which his wife and Mr. Collier glanced towards him, and the drollery which was peeping out of the corners of Sally's mouth, recalled him to decorum; and looking towards his daughter with an expression that seemed to say, "You'd no right to understand me," he passed his hand over his face and resumed, "I say, I am much in the dark whether she be implied in the covenant with us. It is not every child of a righteous man who is among the elect; nor is the offspring of the wicked always fore-ordained to damnation. If there be a good child in Jeroboam's family, he is specified; and if there be a cursed Ham among the children of Noah, he hath his brand."

"Well," Goodman Oldham, interrupted his guest, "it is not for us to tell who is among the elect, and who not, forasmuch as we cannot enter into the counsels of the Most High. And surely when the hearts of stout men grow faint in this enterprise, we need not marvel that women, and young women too, should betimes think of their hardships, and complain thereof. Jacob was regardful of the weakness of the women and little ones of his land."

"I'm sure I never murmured when worst came to worst," said Sally, as she glanced an eye of moist gratitude on her kind advocate.

"I tell you," said Mr. Oldham, without noticing her interruption, "you don't know as much about these weaker vessels as I do; and mayhap you feel concerning them as I used to in by-gone times. But I tell you they are the source of every evil that ever came into the world. I don't refer in special manner to that great tree of sin planted by Eve; but I say they are the individual cause of every branch and bud from that day downwards. I charge you enter not into their path, for destruction layeth wait therein."

"You are one of the last men who should say so," answered his companion, as he looked towards his care-worn and uncomplaining wife.

"She is as good as any of her kind, to be sure," said the rigid old man, as he took his tobacco from his mouth, and drank a hearty draught of cider from the stone mug; then replacing his tobacco, and drawing his sleeve across his mouth, he passed the beverage to Mr. Collier, as he said, "It is a long time since I have tasted the like of this. It's as good as was ever tipped over the tongue of king Charles, God help him, and Satan leave off helping the queen and his bishops. I'd fain stay and argue with you a bit, Mr. Collier, inasmuch as I've been told you are falling into some Antinomian notions; but I must go up to Governor Endicott's awhile, to see how the cattle are to be divided atween us; and I must stop to see a few of the poor sick souls about us. So if you want, you can draw more upon the cider, and may be my good woman will give you a bit of bread and cheese. We have plenty of provisions since the ships were sent hither, the Lord be thanked." So saying, the old man took down his hat from the wooden peg on which it always hung, and closed the door after him.

"Mr. Oldham is a strange talking man," observed his wife; "but he barks worse than he bites."

"I know his ways," answered Mr. Collier. "It is a pity he strikes fire so quick; but it proveth there is good metal in him. And now, Sally, I have a present for you," continued he, as he placed a letter in her hand, which she received with blushing curiosity, and read as follows:

"Deere Maidene,

"This comes to reminde you of one you sometime knew at Plimouth. One to whome the remembrance of your comely face and gratious behaviour, hath proved a very sweete savour. Many times I have thought to write to you, and straightnesse of time only hath prevented. There is much to doe at this seasone, and wee have reason to rejoyce, though with fier and trembling, that we have wherewithal to worke.

"Forasmuch as it is harde to saye unto a damsell, wilt thou bee my wife? I have chosene the rather to place it upon pure white paper, the embleme of your hearte. Which if you will pleese soe to answer, you will much oblige your dutyfull servante. For as Jacob loved Rachelle, and toyled many yeers for her, so loveth

Your trew freynde, James Hopkins."

Mrs. Oldham, with a slight tincture of the modern policy of mothers, had gone out to "neighbour Conant's," when Sally first began to read the foregoing; and luckily she was not there to witness the vexed and disappointed looks of her daughter.

"I suppose I know the writer," said Mr. Collier, smiling as she laid down the paper, "What answer shall I carry thereto?"

"It is from that screech-owl of a Hopkins, who used to be forever bawling Old Hundred in my ears," replied the maiden; "and you may say to him that I have much more kindness for his sheep than for him."

"Peradventure you are in sport," said her astonishished visitor. "You'll find few men in this wilderness of more respectability than my good friend Hopkins."

"Well, if he can find a Rachel, assuredly I have no objection to his toiling for her; but if I should be very near her, I should verily whisper in her ear to give him twice a fourteen years' tug."

"So you are really going to break poor James' heart?" inquired her friend, after a moment's pause.

"If so be there is such a thing as a heart in his big carcase of clay," rejoined the maiden, "I'm willing it should be shattered a bit."

"Poor fellow, what will he think of all this?" inquired the young man, thoughtfully.

"There's divers things he might think," answered the damsel, who began to be out of patience with his stupid modesty. "He might think, if he wanted a wife again, that she was worth the trouble of coming after; or peradventure he can send to king James' plantation and buy one, for a hundred pounds of tobacco. Think you that Isaac would have had good speed with the daughter of Bethuel, with all his jewels of silver and gold, if he had sent by so clever a messenger as yourself, John?"

If one might judge from the expression of the young man's face, he did at length begin to have a faint perception of the truth. An awkward silence followed, till Sally, struck with the ludicrous situation of them both, burst into her usual laugh. "I tell you what, Mr. Collier," said she, "to my thinking, you are the stupidest fellow I ever looked upon; and when you set out upon other men's business, I advise you to do it faithfully, but nevertheless to keep an eye upon your own."

The young man rested one hand upon his knee, turned his bright blue eyes and sun-burnt face towards her, and seemed lost in utter bewilderment.

"But, -- hem -- but what can I do?" said he.

"I know what you can do; but what you will do, is of your own choosing. I have heretofore told you what to say to Hopkins; and I now tell you, John Collier, if you had sent by him, instead of he by you, and my father had said to me, `wilt thou go unto this man?' I should verily have said, `I will go.' "

"And I," rejoined the Plymouth messenger, smiling as he rose and laid his hand upon her shoulder, "I would assuredly have come out to meet thee, and bring thee into my tent. But what perplexes me most is, how I am to account for this to my friend Hopkins and the church."

"You may tell James," replied she, "that you was blind, till I would put eyes into your head; and as for the church, it is enough for them to square and clip our consciences without putting a wedge atwixt folk's hearts."

"It is not well to give away to lightness of speech in speaking of the dignities of the church," observed her lover, "though I know well you mean no harm."

What farther passed between the young people, before the return of the family, is not specified in the manuscript; but an asterisk points to the bottom of the page, where it saith that "the matteer was made knowne to her parents, wherewithall they were welle pleased; more especially as they founde he was nott given to the dreadfull herese of the Antinomians."

Mr. and Mrs. Oldham returned shortly, at least it seemed so to those they had left behind. The old man replaced his hat upon its accustomed peg, drew to the fire his large oaken chair, the pride and ornament of his house, and, after a few discontented remarks about the intended division of the cattle, he took down the big Bible from the shelf, which had been nailed up on purpose for its reception, and read in a loud monotonous tone the 9th chapter of Romans. The prayer which followed was in somewhat too harsh and austere a tone for the voice christian entreaty, but in that rude place it was impressive in its solemn simplicity. The family devotions were concluded with the favourite tune of the great Reformer, in which the clear, rich, native melody of the daughter, contrasted finely with the deep, heavy bass of the father. Soon after, Sally and her mother closed the door which separated their humble little apartment from the outer room, leaving Mr. Oldham and his visitor to discourse about the Antinomians, Anabaptists, and sundry other sects, which even at that early period began to trouble the Seceding Church.

Know ye the famous Indian race? How their light form springs, in strength and grace, Like the pine on their native mountain side, That will not bow in its deathless pride; Whose rugged limbs of stubborn tone, No plexuous power of art will own, But bend to Heaven's red bolt alone!

Yamoyden

Jacob's heart could not have swelled with more exultation, when he journeyed from Padan-aram with his two bands, than was evinced by our forefathers, when they exhibited their newly arrived riches to the wondering natives. As for the poor, unlettered Indians, it exceeded their comprehension how buffaloes, as they termed them, could be led about by the horns, and be compelled to stand or move at the command of men; and they could arrive at no other conclusion than that the English were the favorite children of the Great Spirit, and that he had taught them words to speak to them. To these, and similar impressions, may be ascribed the astonishing influence of the whites over these untutored people. That the various tribes did not rise in their savage majesty, and crush the daring few who had intruded upon their possessions, is indeed a wonderful exemplification of the superiority of intellect over mere brutal force. At the period of which we speak, the thoughtless and dissipated Morton, whom we find mentioned so frequently in our early history, had done much to diminish their reverence for the English. Partly from avarice, and partly from revenge of Governor Endicott's spirited proceedings against his company at Merry Mount, he had sold them rifles, and taught them to take a steady and quick-sighted aim; so that they now boasted they could speak thunder and spit fire as well as the white man. Of late, too, their councils became dark and contentious, for their princes began to fear encroachments upon their dominions, and their prophets were troubled with rumors of a strange God. The Pequods looked with hatred upon the English, as an obstacle to their plan of universal dominion; the Narragansets stood trembling between the increasing power of their new neighbours, and the haughty threats of their enemies; some of the discontented sachems of Mount Haup had broken out in open rebellion; and even the firm faith of Massasoit himself had, at times, been doubted. In such a state of things, embassies and presents were frequently necessary to support the staggering friendship of the well disposed tribes. Accordingly, the second day after his arrival from Plymouth, Hobomok proceeded to Saugus, carrying presents from the English, and a message from Massasoit to Sagamore John. At this wigwam he met Corbitant, a stubborn enemy to the Europeans, and all who favored them. He had been among the Pequods of late, and was exasperated beyond measure that he had in vain offered their war-belt (in token of alliance against the English) to Miantonimo, the great sachem of the Narragansets. Possessed of a mind more penetrating, and a temper even more implacable than most of his brethren, his prophetic eye foresaw the destruction of his countrymen, and from his inmost soul he hated the usurpers. Besides, there was a personal hostility between him and Hobomok concerning an affair of love, in which Corbitant thought one of his kindred had been wronged and insulted; and more than once they had sought each other's life. At the moment Hobomok entered, he was engaged in eager conversation with Sagamore John, concerning his connexion with the English, and scarcely was he seated, ere he exclaimed,

"Shame on you, Hobomok! The wolf devours not its own; but Hobomok wears the war-belt of Owanux,* and counts his beaver for the white man's squaw. Oh cursed Owanux! The buffalo will die of the bite of a wasp, and no warrior will pluck out his sting. Oh cursed Owanux! And yet Miantonimo buckles on their war belt, and Massasoit says, their pipe smokes well. Look to the east, where the sun rises among the Taratines; to the west, where he sets among the valiant Pequods: then look to the south, among the cowardly Narragansets, and the tribes of Massasoit, thick as the trees of his forests; then look far to the north, where the Great Spirit lifts his hatchet* high above the head of the Nipnet! And say, are not the red men like the stars in the sky, or the pebbles in the ocean? But a few sleeps more, let Owanux such the blood of the Indian, where be the red man then? Look for yesterday's tide, for last year's blossoms, and the rainbow that has hid itself in the clouds! Look for the flame that has died away, for the ice that's melted, and for the snow that lights on the waterfall! Among them you will find the children of the Great Spirit. Yes, they will soon be as an arrow that is lost in its flight, and as the song of a bird flown by."

This was uttered with a smile of bitter irony, and in a tone so loud and fierce, that every eye was fixed on the speaker. Sagamore John laid down his pipe to listen; his squaw shook her head mournfully as he uttered his predictions; and his sons stood gazing upon Corbitant, till the fire flashed from their young eyes, and their knives were half drawn from the belt. Even Hobomok, whose loves and hates had become identified with the English, admired the eloquence of his enemy, and made a melancholy pause ere he answered, "Corbitant knows well that the arm of Hobomok is not weak, nor his cheek pale in time of battle; but if the quiver of the Narragansets be filled against the Yengees, know you not, that they themselves will be trodden down, like snow, in the warpath of the Pequods?"

"That's the song of the lame bird, to lead from its nest," replied Corbitant, sarcastically. "Would Hobomok weep, if the Pequod should lift his head to the clouds, and plant one foot among the Taratines, and the other far, far away among the Caddoques? Would he utter one groan, if the hatchet of Sassacus were buried deep in the brains of Pokanecket's child? No! and yet Hobomok asked that the child of Pokanecket might be his squaw; but his beaver skins were not brought, and she cooked the deer for Ninigret's son.* Hobomok saves his tears for the whitefaced daughter of Conant, and his blood for the arrow of Corbitant, that his kinswoman may be avenged."

Hobomok lifted his tomahawk in wrath, as his adversary uttered these insulting words. "Who dares speak of groans and tears," said he, "to him whose heart has been calm in the fight, and whose eye winked not at the glancing of arrows?"

Corbitant answered by a scornful laugh, and the hatchet would have descended on his head, had not Sagamore John stept between them, as he said, "Listen to the words of an ancient chief. The Great Spirit loves not the sacrifice of young blood, when it is shed in quarrel. Smoke the pipe of peace, my children; and I will tell you of days that are gone by, when the war-whoop of John was heard the loudest among his tribe, and his arrow brought down the deer at her swiftest speed."

To have refused to listen to the stories of an old man would have been contrary to all rules of Indian decorum; but before the fierce, young spirits composed themselves to respectful silence, a challenge of proud looks was exchanged, as Corbitant muttered, "When the big sea-bird up yonder, go back to their great land-chief, king Charles, the white squaw's father, say Indian arrow be broken at Naumkeak. Let him look to't that the wolf be not near his wigwam."

Hours passed away while the young sons sat devouring the words of their father, and even his guests seemed to have forgotten their own hatred, in the eager reverence with which they listened to him. His squaw, in the mean time, had taken her coarse, roasted cakes from the fire, and placed some cold venison before her visitors, and pointed to it with a look of pride, as she said, "The arm of my sanup is old, but you see his arrow is yet swifter than the foot of the deer. May his sons bring him food in his old age."

The hospitable meal was gratefully partaken, and all John's exploits in war and hunting being told, Hobomok, having found means to transact the business for which he came, arose to depart. Corbitant, too, threw his quiver over his shoulder, and tightened his belt, as if preparing for a journey. Sagamore John, laying his hand upon his arm, whispered something in his ear, and he reluctantly resumed his seat. In the height of gratitude for some recent favor, he had promised to obey the old chief in his first request, provided it had no connexion with the English; and now that twenty minutes of his time were asked, he would gladly have given all the animals he ever caught, to be released from his promise. However, his word was unbroken; and Hobomok went forth alone. For a few moments he hesitated whether or not to go back and seek satisfaction for the insults he had received from the kinsman of his once betrothed bride. But he remembered what Corbitant had said about the Indian arrows being broken at Naumkeak, and though he did not exactly understand the import of his words, he well knew that an Indian never spoke thus, without some deep laid plan of vengeance. An undefined apprehension of danger to Mr. Conant's family passed over his heart, and after a few reluctant steps backward, he turned round hastily and walked forward, as he said, "It isn't the love of life, -- but if I should be killed in these woods, who will be left to tell her of her danger? 'Twould be pity so young a bird should be brought down in its flight."

As he walked on in a hurried, irregular pace, love, resentment, and wounded pride, were all busy at his heart-strings. He had left Pokanecket's daughter, because he loathed the idea of marriage with her; but he never had thought, and till now he never had been told, that Mary Conant was the cause. Soon after her arrival at Plymouth, Mary had administered cordials to his sick mother, which restored her to life after the most skilful of their priests had pronounced her hopeless; and ever since that time, he had looked upon her with reverence, which almost amounted to adoration. If any dregs of human feeling were mingled with these sentiments, he at least, was not aware of it; and now that the idea was forced upon him, he rejected it, as a kind of blasphemy. With these thoughts were mixed a melancholy presentiment of the destruction of his race, and stern, deep, settled hatred of Corbitant.

As he came in sight of the seacoast, the sun was just setting behind the ledge of rocks which stretched along to his right; and the broad blue harbour of Salem lay full in his view, as tranquil as the slumbers of a young heart devoid of crime. The spring birds were warbling among the trees, or floating along so lightly, that they scarcely dipped their wing in the still surface of the water. There was something in the unruffled aspect of things, which tended to soothe the turbulence of human passion. By degrees the insults of Corbitant, the remembrance of Pokanecket's child, the clouds which imagination had seen lowering over the fate of his nation, and even the danger of his English friends, became more dim and fleeting; till at length, the spirit of devotion sat brooding over the soul of the savage. The star, which had arisen in Bethlehem, had never gleamed along his path; and the dark valley of the shadow of death had never been illuminated with the brightness of revealed truth. But though the intellect be darkened, there are rays from God's own throne, which enter into the peacefulness and purity of the affections, shedding their mild lustre on the ignorance of man.

Philosophy had never held up her shield against the sun, and then placed her dim taper in his hand, while she pointed to the "mundane soul," in which all human beings lost their identity; nor had he ever read of that city "whose streets were of gold, and her gates of pearl, in the light of which walked the nations of them which were saved;" but there was within him a voice loud and distinct, which spoke to him of another world, where he should think, feel, love, even as he did now. He had never read of God, but he had heard his chariot wheels in the distant thunder, and seen his drapery in the clouds. In moods like these, thoughts which he could not grasp, would pass before him, and he would pause to wonder what they were, and whence they came. It was with such feelings that he stopped, and resting his head againt a large hemlock, which lifted its proud branches high above the neighboring pines, he gazed on the stars, just visible above the horizon. He stood thus some moments, when a rustling sound broke in upon the stillness, and an arrow whizzed past him, and caught in the corner of his blanket. He turned round suddenly, and saw Corbitant advancing towards him with an uplifted hatchet.

"Ha! said he, with his accustomed laugh of scorn, I thought Hobomok winked not at the glancing of arrows. When did Corbitant flee to the woods, to save life, when he had been dared to the fight?"

Few words passed between them, and desperate was the struggle which ensued. For awhile it seemed doubtful who would get the victory, amid the fierceness of their savage warfare; till at length a violent blow on the temple laid Corbitant senseless on the ground.

"Love your enemy," was a maxim Hobomok had never learned, and the tomahawk was already raised above the head of his stupified victim, when the sound of voices was heard in the thicket, and springing into his former path, he pursued his way homeward, as fleetly as some wild animal of the forest. A few moments brought in view the settlement of Salem; and amid the lights, which here and there twinkled indistinctly through the trees, he quickly distinguished the dwelling of Mary Conant.

The light within enthusiasts, who let fly Against our pen-and-ink divinity; Who boldly do pretend, (but who'll believe it?) If Genesis were lost they could retrieve it.

Nicholas Noyles

During their solitary stay at Naumkeak, wasted as the young colony had been with sickness, famine, and fearful apprehension, the buoyant spirits and kind heart of Sally Oldham, had proved an almost solitary source of enjoyment to Mary Conant. True, there were few points of congeniality either in native character, or habitual tendency of mind. The nobler principles of the soul may long remain latent amid the depressing atmosphere of circumstance and situation; but the rich-toned instrument needs but a skillful hand to produce the finest combinations of harmony, and even to the rude touch of the winds, it will occasionally yield its sweet response of wayward melody. Indeed it seemed as if the chilling storms, which had lowered over the young life of Mary Conant, had not only served to call forth the fervid hues of feeling in their full perfection, but had likewise strengthened her native elegance of mind. The intellectual, like the natural sun, sheds its own bright and beautiful lustre on the surrounding gloom, till every object on which it shines seems glowing into life; and amid all the dreariness of poverty, and the weight of affliction (the heavier, that it was borne far from the knowledge and sympathy of the world), Mary found much to excite her native fervor of imagination. The stars were there, in their silent, sparkling beauty, and the fairbrowed moon smiled on the hushed, still loveliness of nature. The monarch of day paused ere he gathered around him his brilliant drapery of clouds, and gazed on these wild dominions with as much pride as upon fairer and warmer climes. But all associations of this nature formed a "sanctum sanctorum" in the recesses of Mary's heart, and Sally Oldham was one of the last to penetrate it. She thought nothing of the stars but of their luckly or unlucky influences, viewed r> the moon as a well-favored planet, that had much to do with the weather, and saw nothing in the setting sun but a hint to do her out-door work. But whether the understanding finds reciprocation or not, the heart must have sympathy; and amid the depression of spirits, naturally induced by the declining health of her mother, and the disheartening influence of the stern, dark circle in which she moved, Mary found a welcome relief in unlocking all her hopes, fears, and disappointments to her untutored friend. Her usual placid state of feeling had been restored by the ample confession she had made concerning an action, which she more than half feared would call down the vengeance of Heaven upon her; and when Hobomok entered the room, after the excursion mentioned in the last chapter, she was quietly seated amid the circle, which had assembled at her father's house. It was indeed a scene of varied character. The mother and daughter, as we have already observed, possessed that indefinable outline of elegance, which is seldom entirely effaced from those of high birth and delicate education. In immediate contrast were the stern, hard features of Mr. Conant, and the singular countenance of Mr. Oldham, which reminded one of gleams of light through a grated window, for the deep furrows of passion, and the shadows of worldly disappointment, were in vain cast over its natural drollery of expression. Then there was the fine, bold expression of Governor Endicott, and the dolorous visage of Mr. Graves, which seemed constantly to say, "the earth is a tomb and man a fleeting vapour;' and lastly the manly beauty of Hobomok, as he sat before the fire, the flickering and uncertain light of a few decaying embers falling full upon his face. This Indian was indeed cast in nature's noblest mould. He was one of the finest specimens of elastic, vigorous elegance of proportion, to be found among his tribe. His long residence with the white inhabitants of Plymouth had changed his natural fierceness of manner into haughty, dignified reserve; and even that seemed softened as his dark, expressive eye rested on Conant's daughter.

"We have heard somewhat of an alliance between the Pequods and Narragansets," said Governor Endicott, as Hobomok seated himself. "What says Sagamore John concerning this matter?"

"He said it was a cloud gone by," was the laconic answer.

"And do you think the Pequods will ever prevail on them to join against us, Hobomok?"

"The quivers of the Pequod is full of arrows," replied the Indian; "his belt is the skin of a snake, and he suffers no grass to grow upon his war-path. He needs not the sinew of the Narraganset to draw the arrow to the head."

"When you were among the Narragansets what was their speech thereupon?" inquired the chief magistrate.

"Miantonimo called king Charles his good English father," answered Hobomok. "He wore not the belt of the Pequod, and his sachems smoked not the pipe of Sassacus. But that was a few sleeps ago. A man may tell the changes of the moon, but it is not so with the word of a Narraganset."

He rose as he said this, and stood for some moments at the aperture which admitted the light, gazing intently on the surrounding woods; but if there was any thing like anxiety in his mind, it was cautiously concealed from the view of others.

"Well," said Mr. Conant, interrupting the silence, "even if Massasoit joins himself unto them, we are strong in numbers and doubly strong in the Lord of Hosts."

"The sachem of Mount Haup is true as the course of the sun," rejoined the Indian, somewhat indignant that his friendship should be doubted. "If an arrow comes among us, it comes from Corbitant's quiver. But though the rattlesnake's death be on its feather, the wise man must aim it, and the Good Spirit must wing it to the mark. When you pray to the Englishman's God, he sends your corn drink, and you say he make the waters in two tribes, for the white man to pass through. Is he not bigger than the Pequods and the Mohegans, the Narragansets and the Tarateens?"

Without waiting for an answer, he took up the cap which lay on the floor beside him, and left the house.

"It is a shame on us that an Indian must teach us who is `our shield and our buckler," observed Mr. Conant. "To my mind there is more danger of Satan's killing us with the rat's-bane of toleration, than the Lord's taking us off with the Indian arrows. It behoveth the watchmen of Israel to be on their guard, for false prophets and false Christs are abroad in the land. `One saith he is in the desert, and another saith he is in the secret chambers;' and much reason have the elect to laud the God of Israel, that his right hand upholdeth them in slippery places."

"I am much in the dark whether you can clearly prove, from Scripture, that the elect are always upheld in slippery places," said Mr. Oldham. "What do you make of the falling off of Judas Iscariot?"

"What do I make of it, man? Why that he never was among the elect. Christ saith, "none of them have I lost but the son of perdition, that the Scriptures might be fulfilled."

"Why, Paul himself seems not to have been clear upon the subject," continued Mr. Oldham; "for he says, `lest when I have preached unto others, I should myself prove a cast-away.' And know you not that God's chosen people staid so long in Egypt that they forgot the name of Jehovah? And what with the brick bondage of spiritual Egypt on the one hand, and the flesh-pots on the other, I think there is much danger that the elect may so lose the sound of his voice, that they will not know it, when it calls them from the four winds of heaven."

"I have found by experience," said Governor Endicott, "that the more doubts we let in at the floodgate, the faster gripe Satan hath upon our souls. St. Augustine hath it, `Nullum malum pejus libertate errandi;' and I believe he is in the right."

"I don't know any thing about your outlandish tongue," replied Mr. Oldham; "and, I mean no disrespect to your Honor, but I think it savors of Babylon to be calling on the name of this saint and that saint. I marvel when christians have turned the pope out of doors, they don't send his rags out of the window. To my thinking, the devil will send him back again after his duds, forasmuch as they are suffered to remain in the church."

"Augustine was a holy man," rejoined Governor Endicott; "though in many things, the Lord suffered him to remain in darkness. He it was, who left a burning coal upon the altar, wherewithal Calvin and Luther lighted up the great fire of the Reformation; a fire which burneth yet, and which will burn, until Babylon be consumed, with her robes and her mitres, her cross and her staff, her bishops and her prelates, her masses and her mummeries. Yea, let the disciples of the hell-born Loyola strive against it as they will. But as for St. Augustine, my friend, you'll acknowledge the spirit of the matter to be good, though it is clothed in outlandish dress, when I tell you that it meaneth, `there is no evil worse than the liberty of wandering."'

"There is much truth in that, no doubt," replied Mr. Graves; "but I maintain it is contrary to the declarations of Scripture, unless you can prove that it appertains to the unpardonable sin."

"St. Augustine probably wrote it without any especial reference to that passage," said the Governor.

"And I maintain that it's popish blasphemy to write any thing without an especial reference to the declarations of Scripture," replied his antagonist, who seemed to stand on the battle ground of controversy, calling out, like Goliah, `Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me that I may fight him.' "And as for you, Mr. Oldham, if you have such doubts as you've been speaking of, it is because you have sinned yourself into them; and I marvel if it be not by the leaven of idle words, and levity of speech."

"God gave us laughter as well as reason, to my apprehension," rejoined Mr. Oldham, "Solomon saith, `there is a time for all things;' and the commentary that I put upon the text is, that there is a time to smoke a pipe and crack a joke, as well as to preach and pray."

"You know not what you say, nor whereof you affirm," answered Mr. Conant. "Recreation is no doubt good to oil the wheels as we travel along a rugged road; but a wise man will do as Jonathan, who only tasted a little honey on the end of his rod. As for that text of Solomon, it is a sort of flaming cherubim that turneth every way, and many a man hath it slain."

"I'm thinking at any rate," retorted Oldham, "that a scythe cuts the better, if a man stops to whet it atween whiles."

"That's true enough," replied he from the Isle of Wight, "but what would you say to see a man whetting his scythe the whole day instead of mowing? I tell you, Mr. Oldham, he that gives up, even for an hour; the blessed comforts of the gospel and the inward outpouring of prayer, for the mere crackling thorns of worldly mirth, does but exchange his pearls for old iron."

"I think," interrupted Governor Endicott, "that there is much appertaining to error implied in the doctrine of inward outpouring. That egg was laid in the Netherlands, and if it be kept warm, I've a suspicion that the viper will hereafter spring out of its shell, and aim at the vitals of the church. It is a wandering meteor of human pride, and doth but serve to lead from the true light of revelation."

"Ah, it is a sad thing," observed Mr. Conant, "that before we have got the church of Christ well balanced, Satan, seeing the dominion of the beast going down in one quarter, straightway sendeth forth his ministers to and fro in the earth, and teacheth them to cry down Antichrist as much as the boldest of us, at the same time that they lead poor souls into more horrid blasphemies than the papist. These gross errors, broached in the dark, are sliding like the plague into the veins of the church; but in none of them the devil so plainly sheweth his horns, as in this doctrine of inward light."

"According to my notions," said Mr. Graves, scripture would be but a dead letter without inward light. I'm thinking a clock would be but a sorry thing, with its clever-figured face, if there was no wheel-work to set it agoing."

"Your comparison hath no savor of similitude," replied the Governor. "I grant there is a concealed life and spirit in the letter of the Bible; but God hath hidden it, and it is not for man to penetrate into the mysteries of godliness. The index of the clock sufficeth to do our daily work by, and is of no further use to him that knows the wheels which move it, than to him who never thought thereupon."

This probably would have paved the way for fresh controversy, had not the entrance of Hobomok interrupted the conversation. His appearance betrayed no marks of agitation, nor was any surprise excited when he stooped and spoke to the Governor, who immediately followed him out of the room. As soon as they were out of hearing, Hobomok told him his suspicions of Corbitant, and added that he was certain there were a number of Indians in ambush in the woods below. The chief magistrate determined at once that a company should be collected silently and speedily. Hobomok was deputed to give orders to several individuals to proceed to his house with as little appearance of alarm as possible; and the Indian set forth upon the expedition; first requesting the Governor not to lose sight of Mr. Conant's house. When Governor Endicott returned to the company he had left, he stated the fears of their Indian friend as gently as possible; but cautiously as they were told, it proved too much for the weak nerves of Mrs. Conant. Since her residence in the wilderness, alarms of this kind had been frequent, and she had borne them with fortitude; but now the body weighed down the firmness of the soul; and her husband was obliged to leave his fainting wife to the care of her daughter, with an assurance that their safety should be cared for. They were indeed well protected; for Hobomok, the moment his errands were hastily delivered, had returned to guard them with the quick eye of love, and the ready arm of hatred.

The company so suddenly collected, pursued a circuitous rout, and came at once upon the unguarded enemy. The band which they discovered consisted of twenty Indians, most of whom were petty sachems of Massasoit, who had been wrought upon by the eloquence of Corbitant, for the purpose of setting fire to Mr. Conant's house, and murdering the inhabitants, if possible.

From his own account, it seemed that Mr. Conant's quotation with regard to the arrows being broken at Salem, had been construed by Corbitant into a defiance of the neighbouring tribes; and that he had taken this step to revenge the insult; however, it is probable that the blow was aimed, through them, at the heart of Hobomok. Ambush and stratagem are the pride of Indian warfare, and now that their designs were so completely traversed, they attempted no resistance. The captives were placed in an enclosed piece of public land, and a guard of thirty men set over them. Mr. Conant returned to his family, and Mary, inured to such occurrences, slept peacefully within their humble dwelling, unconscious that Hobomok watched it the livelong night, with eyes that knew no slumber. Every man saw that his gun was loaded and his pistols within reach; and at midnight nothing was seen in motion but the sentinels, as they passed backward and forward, their arms gleaming in the moon.

If heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.

Burns

The dawn presented a scene unusual to the inbabitants of Salem. The prisoners, some standing erect, some seated on the ground, and others leaning upon their bows, wore one uniform expression of defiance and rage. The Englishmen who stood around them, resting on their loaded guns, had that look of peculiar ghastliness which the light of morning gives to men who have passed a sleepless and anxious night. However, the sun had hardly placed his golden circlet on the summit of the highest eastern hills, before the deep rolling of the drum was heard along the street, and fresh recruits passed on, to take the place of their companions. In the mean time a council was called at the chief magistrate's, to determine what should be done with the prisoners.

"My countrymen," said Governor Endicott, "you all know for what purpose you are now called hither. Well it is for us that our brethren from the Isle of Wight have arrived among us; inasmuch as the wickedness of Morton hath made these savages very daring of late. But, as I was about to say, while we were sitting in the house of Mr. Conant, talking of God, and the things appertaining to salvation, Hobomok came among us and gave warning of a party of Indians in the hollow; forasmuch as he, whom we all know the Lord hath gifted with great quickness of ear, heard a low whoop therefrom. You know how the thing hath proved, and how wonderfully we have been saved from the malice and stratagems of our enemies; and now I would fain ask your judgment concerning what is best to be done in this matter."

After some discussion it was determined that Mr. Conant should take with him a strong guard, and convey the captives to their head sachem, Massasoit. Upon which, their godly minister, Mr. Higginson, arose and desired them to join with him in a petition to the throne of grace. Every hat was reverently laid aside, and a short, impressive prayer was made with the involuntary eloquence of recent gratitude. A strong guard was equipped, and as they passed in review before the Governor, the ensign stepped out and delivered the colors of the red cross, which had been unfurled the night before.

"It is marvellous in my eyes that the Lord fighteth on our side, while we march under such a badge of Antichrist," said Governor Endicott. "It as much beseemeth a christian to carry the half-moon of Mahomet, as such an emblem of popish victory. However, the pleasure of the king be obeyed."

Hobomok, who had been waiting for "the council fire to be extinguished," fell into the rear of the company, and re-conducted Mr. Collier to Plymouth.

During several hours the settlement continued in that state of excitement which might naturally be supposed to follow an alarm so unexpected. All the people that were near, called at Mr. Conant's, one after another, to hear the extent of the danger to which they had been exposed, till Mary and her mother were weary of repeating the story.

"I have come hither to find out the root of the matter," Madam Conant, said a neighbouring widow. "I heard last night that there was three hundred Indians found in Endicott's Hollow; and there I sat trembling afraid to venture out, till Jacob came home and told me something about the business."

"And I," observed another, "heard that Corbitant shot Governor Endicott in the mouth. Oh, it was a woful night to us women folks who have just come among you. We never hear of such like proceedings in our island."

"The matter hath no doubt been much magnified," replied Mrs. Conant. "We have reason to be thankful the Indians were few and easily surprised. But here is neighbour Oldham, who was one of the company. He can tell you every thing connected therewith."

"There was but one arrow fired," said Mr. Oldham; "and, as the Lord would have it, that stuck fast in a bit of cheese rind in my jacket pocket. Which, I think, proveth good the old saying, that `a little armour serveth a man if he knoweth where to put it.' But, after all our affrightment, this hath proved a small matter. The Lord hath merely given us a jog on the elbow at this time; that we may remember the dangers wherewithal we are surrounded, and wake up our sluggish souls, that have become somewhat perfunctory in his service."

"That's what my good man said, when he was dying," rejoined the widow. "Poor soul, the Indian shot him through and through, when he was digging for clams in the sands down there at Plymouth; and when I pulled out the arrow and bound up his wounds, he told me, it was all a chastisement of the Lord, in that we had fallen into rebellious ways."

"And I remember as well as if it was but yesterday," said another, "how my poor Joseph looked in them dreadful times. A bright and handsome boy he was once, but he overworked himself; and then he grew poor, and pale as a ghost, and what was worst of all, I hadn't food wherewithal to keep life in his body."

"Ah there is nobody knows the troubles and distresses of a new settlement, but those who have tasted thereof," observed Mrs. Conant; and she paused and sighed deeply, as the painful remembrance of her own lost sons passed before her. "But one must not talk of their own griefs at such a time," continued she. "There is great commotion throughout the world; and it is plain to perceive that Jehovah is shaking the heavens above our head, and the earth beneath our feet."

"Ay, ay," answered Oldham, "these are fearsome times in church and state, when the domineering bishop of London, whom no godly man ever yet knew without giving laud to the devil by reason of the acquaintance. I say it is fearful times when such like men have power to drive God's heritage into the wilderness, where they must toil hard for a scanty bread, and that too with daily jeopardy of life and limb."

"And they tell me likewise," rejoined Mrs. Conant "that Sir Ferdinando Gorges is likely to make difficulty about the Massachusetts patent; and that the Lord, for further trial of our faith, hath suffered more enemies to be stirred up against us in England, who are ready, like Amalek of old, to smite Israel while they are weak and unable for defence."

"Oh yes," replied Mr. Oldham; "and the Earl of Warwick, and divers other great folks who hold possessions here, `sit under their vine and their fig-tree, with none to molest or make them afraid,' and little know they concerning our troubles, and never a hand of theirs would ward off a blow, unless where the matter of filthy lucre was concerned."

"Nevertheless," said Mrs. Conant, "the work will prosper. Though there appeareth now but a little cloud, about the bigness of a man's hand; yet the Lord Christ is in it, and out of it shall shine the perfection of beauty."

"I could listen to your edifying discourse all the day long, but there is no time for folding of hands now-a-days," interrupted the widow, as she threw her cloak over her shoulders. "My red cardinal is over warm for the season to be sure, but then I think it is but decent to have something over a body's head."

"I marvel that you should think it decent to call a christian garment by a name that appertains to the scarlet woman of Babylon," said Mr. Oldham.

"It's no name of my making, Goodman; nor did I know that evil was signified thereby," answered the widow. "But I must be stirring homewards. The Lord bless you all."

The other visitors gradually followed her example, and quietness and order were soon restored to the household.

"Mother," said Mary, after their guests had all departed, "you know father has gone to Plymouth for two or three days?"

"To be sure I do, my child," replied Mrs. Conant, smiling. "And what then?" Mary hesitated a few moments ere she added, "I have seen Charles Brown this morning; and he is coming here this evening, that is, if you have no objection thereto."

"You well know my heart, my dear Mary," replied her mother, "but I ought not to do wrong because your father is absent."

"You don't think it is wrong -- in your conscience you can't think it's wrong," said Mary, as she kissed her forehead, and looked up archly in her face. "So do say he may come."

"You have sacrificed much for me, my child," answered the indulgent parent. And, pausing a moment, she continued, "Perhaps I do wrong thus to violate the injunctions of my husband, but I know you are prudent, and you may e'en follow your own dictates concerning this matter."

The young man to whom we have so often referred, was a graduate at Oxford, and of no ordinary note in his native kingdom. He had known Mary before she left the mansion of her noble grandfather; and the remembrance of the little fairy just blushing into womanhood had proved powerful enough to draw the ambitious young lawyer from the fair hopes of distinction in England, to the wild and romantic scheme of establishing the Episcopal mitre in the forests of America. The state in which he found things on his arrival, induced him to abandon his favorite project; and prudence for awhile enabled him to conceal his high church principles. But the crown and the mitre were interwoven with every association of his heart, and in that hot-bed of argument he found the attempt at neutrality was in vain. Notwithstanding the first settlers at Naumkeak had taken the liberty of nonconforming to the rules of their mother church, and to the established regulations of the Plymouth elders, Mr. Brown soon found that they complained loudly of the spirit of the times. Mr. Conant in particular, stated that New England was likely to become "a cage for every unclean bird. A free stable-room and litter for all kinds of consciences." Such expressions extorted from Brown an involuntary reproach upon those false guides who had first taught men to wander from the true church. This was, of course, the watch-word of animosity; and from that time the young man was considered as Ishmael in the house of Abraham. However, long after the old man discovered the abomination of his sentiments, he continued a daily visitor at Mr. Conant's, who `felt it his duty to controvert the matter with him, inasmuch as the Lord might please to make him the instrument of his redemption." But it could not long remain concealed that metal more attractive than the iron glove of controversy, had drawn him to their fire-side; and, with more anger than Mrs. Conant had ever before seen him manifest, he forbade him the house forever.

With all Mary's habitual sweetness of disposition, this course of conduct did serve to diminish her filial respect and affection. She had no sympathy with her father's religious scruples, for her heart very naturally bowed down before the same altar with the man she loved. None could form an idea of the depth and fervor of her affection, who had not, like her, left a bright and sunny path, to wander in the train of misery, gloom, and famine. During her stay at her grandfather's, she had become familiar with much that was beautiful in painting, and lovely in sculpture, as well as all that was elegant in the poetry of that early period; and their rich outline was deeply impressed upon her young heart. For her mother's sake, she endured the mean and laborious offices which she was obliged to perform, but she lived only in the remembrance of that fairy spot in her existence. Alone as she was, without one spirit that came in contact with her own, she breathed only in the regions of fancy; and many an ideal object had she invested with its rainbow robe. When at length she found a being who understood her feelings, and who loved, as she had imagined love, her whole soul was rivetted. The harshness of her father tended to increase this, by rendering the stream of affection more undivided in its source. In such a state of things, their interviews must of course be transient and unfrequent; but when they did occur, the cup of joy, so seldom tasted, sparkled to the brim. Let the philosopher say what he will about these humbler blossoms of the heart, earth has nothing like them, for loveliness and fragrance. And he, who through the dim lapse of years, remembers the time when two full, gushing tides of young affection, were mingled in one common stream, will hardly be willing to acknowledge that the world is altogether "vanity and vexation of spirit."

The remembrance of her own thwarted inclinations wrought powerfully on the mind of Mary's gentle and affectionate mother, and she at length gave their meeting her unqualified consent. The bowl of chocolate was prepared that night with even more careful fondness than usual; and as Mrs. Conant at an early hour laid her head upon the pillow, she was just preparing to say, "I fear I do wrong, my child," but Mary kissed away the sentence.

The absence of so many of the inhabitants, and the fear of some fresh alarm, made it expedient that the outskirts of the settlement should be guarded, and Mary well knew that Brown was on that duty. In expectation of his arrival, she stationed herself at the door, and looked out upon the still brightness around. The lonely spot was fair and tranquil, and earth, sea, and sky, beneath the unvaried radiance of the moon, "seemed just waking from some heavenly dream." The evening star was sailing along its peaceful course, and seemed, amid the stainless sanctity of the heavens, like a bright diadem on the brow of some celestial spirit. "Fair planet," thought Mary, "how various are the scenes thou passest over in thy shining course. The solitary nun, in the recesses of her cloister, looks on thee as I do now; mayhap too, the courtly circle of king Charles are watching the motion of thy silver chariot. The standard of war is fluttering in thy beams, and the busy merchantman breaks thy radiance on the ocean. Thou hast kissed the cross-crowned turrets of the Catholic, and the proud spires of the Episcopalian. Thou hast smiled on distant mosques and temples, and now thou art shedding the same light on the sacrifice heap of the Indian, and the rude dwellings of the Calvinist. And can it be, as my father says, that of all the multitude of people who view thy cheering rays, so small a remnant only are pleasing in the sight of God? Oh, no. It cannot be thus. Would that my vision, like thine, could extend through the universe, that I might look down unmoved on the birth and decay of human passions, hopes, and prejudices."

These thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Brown, as he came whistling along the footpath, the light of evening resting full upon his handsome features.

"The moon has seemed to rise slowly and wearily since I have been looking out for you," said the maiden, as her lover gaily imprinted a kiss upon her hand.

"I could wish she would stop her shining course awhile," replied he; "for, setting aside the expectation of meeting you, it is one of the brightest nights I ever looked upon."

"I have been watching it," answered Mary, "till it hath almost made me sad. At this moment she is shining on the lordly palaces and blooming gardens of good old England, is she not?"

"Ah yes; and such thoughts make even my heart sicken within me. But it is not so when I think of you. Love `maketh the desert to blossom as the rose.' Besides, my dear Mary, I trust we shall bo