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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;

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,

Meekly the prayer was begun, but ended in fervent entreaty ‘. Then from their houses in haste came forth ------ the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Men and women and children, all hurrying down to the sea-shore, Eager, with tearful eyes, to say farewell to the May Flower, Homeward bound o'er the sea, and leaving

them here in the desert.

Foremost among them was Alden. All night he had lain without slumber, Turning and tossing about in the heat and unrest of his fever. He had beheld Miles Standish, who came back late from the council, Stalking into the room, and heard him mutter and murmur, Sometimes it seemed a prayer, and sometimes

it sounded like swearing.

Once he had come to the bed, and stood there a moment in silence; Then he had turned away, and said: “I will not awake him ; Let him sleep on, it is best ; for what is the use of more talking !” Then he extinguished the light, and threw himself down on his pallet, Dressed as he was, and ready to start at the 'break of the morning, — Covered himself with the cloak he had worn in his campaigns in Flanders, – Slept as a soldier sleeps in his bivouac, ready . for action. But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Alden beheld him Put on his corslet of steel, and all the rest of his armor, Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of

Damascus,

Take from the corner his musket, and so stride out of the chamber. Often the heart of the youth had burned and yearned to embrace him, Often his lips had essayed to speak, imploring for pardon; All the old friendship came back, with its tender and grateful emotions; But his pride overmastered the nobler nature within him, Pride, and the sense of his wrong, and the burning fire of the insult. So he beheld his friend departing in anger, but Spake not, Saw him go forth to danger, perhaps to death, and he spake not Then he arose from his bed, and heard what - the people were saying, Joined in the talk at the door, with Stephen and Richard and Gilbert,

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