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Is not a tiling to be asked for, and had for only

the asking. When one is truly in love, one not only says it,

but shows it. Had he but waited awhile, had he only showed

that he loved me, Even this Captain of yours — who knows? —

at last might have won me, Old and rough as he is; but now it never

can happen."

Still John Alden went on, unheeding the words of Priscilla,

Urging the suit of his friend, explaining, persuading, expanding;

Spoke of his courage and skill, and of all his battles in Flanders,

How with the people of God he had chosen to suffer affliction,

How, in return for his zeal, they had made him Captain of Plymouth;

He was a gentleman born, could trace his pedigree plainly Back to Hugh Standisli of Duxbury Hall, in

Lancashire, England, "Who was the son of Kalph, and the grandson

of Thurston de Standish; Heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely

defrauded, Still bore the family arms, and had for his crest

a cock argent Combed and wattled gules, and all the rest of

the blazon. He was a man of honor, of noble and generous

nature; Though he was rough, he was kindly; she

knew how during the winter He had attended the sick, with a hand as gen

. tie as woman's; Somewhat hasty and hot, he could not deny it, and headstrong,

Stern as a soldier might be, but hearty, and placable always,

Not to be laughed at and scorned, because he was little of stature;

Pqx he was great of heart, magnanimous, courtly, courageous;

Any woman in Plymouth, nay, any woman in England,

Might be happy and proud to be called the wife of Miles Standish!

But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and eloquent language,

Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival,

Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with laughter,

Said, in a tremulous voice, "Why don't you speak for yourself, John?"


Into the open, air John Alden, perplexed and bewildered,

Rushed like a man insane, and wandered alone by the sea-side;

Paced up and down the sands, and bared his head to the east-wind,

Cooling his heated brow, and the fire and fever within him.

Slowly as out of the heavens, with apocalyptical splendors,

Sank the City of God, in the vision of John the Apostle,

So, with its cloudy walls of chrysolite, jasper,

and sapphire, Sank the broad red sun, and over its turrets

uplifted Glimmered the golden reed of the angel who

measured the city.

""Welcome, 0 wind of the East!" he exclaimed in his wild exultation,

""Welcome, 0 wind of the East, from the caves of the misty Atlantic!

Blowing o'er fields of dulse^ and measureless meadows of sea-grass,

Blowing o'er rocky wastes, and the grottos and gardens of ocean!

Lay thy cold, moist hand on my burning forehead, and wrap me

Close in thy garments of mist, to allay the fever within me!"

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