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War is a terrible trade; but in the cause that

is righteous, Sweet is the smell of powder; and thus I an

swer the challenge!”

Then from the rattlesnake's skin, with a sud

den, contemptuous gesture, Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with

powder and bullets Full to the very jaws, and handed it back to

the savage,

Saying, in thundering tones: “Here, take it !

this is

your answer! Silently out of the room then glided the glis

tening savage, Bearing the serpent's skin, and seeming himself

like a serpent, Winding his sinuous way in the dark to the

depths of the forest.



Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists up

rose from the meadows, There was a stir and a sound in the slumber

ing village of Plymouth ; Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order

imperative, “Forward !” Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and

then silence. Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly out

of the village. Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his

valorous army,

Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend

of the white men, Northward marching to quell the sudden re

volt of the savage. Giants they seemed in the mist, or the mighty

men of King David; Giants in heart they were, who believed in God

and the Bible, Ay, who believed in the smiting of Midianites

and Philistines. Over them gleamed far off the crimson banners

of morning; Under them loud on the sands, the serried bil

lows, advancing, Fired along the line, and in regular order re


Many a mile had they marched, when at

length the village of Plymouth Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its

manifold labors.

Sweet was the air and soft; and slowly the

smoke from the chimneys Rose over roofs of thatch, and pointed steadily

eastward; Men came forth from the doors, and paused

and talked of the weather, Said that the wind had changed, and was blow

ing fair for the May Flower ; Talked of their Captain's departure, and all

the dangers that menaced, He being gone, the town, and what should be

done in his absence.

Merrily sang the birds, and the tender voices

of women

Consecrated with hymns the common cares of

the household.

Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows

rejoiced at his coming; Beautiful were his feet on the purple tops of

the mountains;

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Beautiful on the sails of the May Flower riding

at anchor, Battered and blackened and worn by all the

storms of the winter. Loosely against her masts was hanging and

flapping her canvas, Rent by so many gales, and patched by the

hands of the sailors. Suddenly from her side, as the sun rose over

the ocean,

Darted a puff of smoke, and floated seaward;

anon rang Loud over field and forest the cannon's roar,

and the echoes Heard and repeated the sound, the signal-gun

of departure ! Ah! but with louder echoes replied the hearts

of the people! Meekly, in voices subdued, the chapter was

read from the Bible,

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