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Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian1 village, Than be second in Rome, and I think he was right when he said it.
Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many times after;
Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities he conquered;
He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has recorded;2 Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus!3 105 Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders,
When the rear-guard of his army retreated, the front giving way too,
And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely together
There was no room for their swords? Why, he seized a shield from a soldier,
Put himself straight at the head of his troops, and commanded the captains,
Calling on each by his name, to order forward the ensigns; Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their
So he won the day, the battle of something-or-other. That's what I always say; if you wish a thing to be well done,
1 In ancient times, Spain was called Iberia.
2 Cæsar's most brilliant victory was the defeat of the Nervii, a barbarous tribe inhabiting that part of Flanders which is now called Belgium. This is Marcus Junius Brutus, a Roman general. He held various offices in the Republic: Senator, City Prætor, Governor of Cisalpine Gaul. Influenced by the other conspirators, he believed that the welfare of his country demanded the death of Cæsar, so he took part in the assassination. "Therefore 'tis meet that noble minds keep ever with their likes." Shakespeare's Julius Cæsar.
4 A legion was one of the divisions of the Roman army. In the time of Cæsar it consisted of about six thousand men.
You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!"
All was silent again; the Captain continued his reading. Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling
Writing epistles important to go next day by the Mayflower, Filled with the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden Priscilla;
Every sentence began or closed with the name of Priscilla,
Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided the secret, Strove to betray it by singing and shouting the name of Priscilla!
Finally closing his book, with a bang of the ponderous cover, Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier grounding his musket,
Thus to the young man spake Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth:
"When you have finished your work, I have something important to tell you.
Be not however in haste; I can wait; I shall not be impatient!"
Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the last of his letters, Pushing his papers aside, and giving respectful attention: "Speak; for whenever you speak, I am always ready to listen,
Always ready to hear whatever pertains to Miles Standish." Thereupon answered the Captain, embarrassed, and culling
""Tis not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures.1 This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it; Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel it, and say it. 135 1 Genesis, ii. 18.
Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary; Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship. Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden Priscilla.
She is alone in the world; her father and mother and brother
Died in the winter together; I saw her going and coming, 140 Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying,
Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if
There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven, Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla
Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned.
Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared to reveal it,
Being a coward in this, though valiant enough for the most part.
Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth, Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but of actions,
Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a soldier.
Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my meaning;
I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases.
You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant lan
Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers,
Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden."
When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling,
All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered, Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with lightness,
Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in his bosom,
Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by lightning,
Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than answered:
"Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it;
If you would have it well done, I am only repeating your maxim, —
You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!" But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his
Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth:
"Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay
But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for
Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases.
I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender,
But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon,
But of a thundering 'No!' point-blank from the mouth of
That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to
So you must grant my request, for you are an elegant scholar,
Having the graces of speech, and skill in the turning of phrases."
Taking the hand of his friend, who still was reluctant and doubtful,
Holding it long in his own, and pressing it kindly, he added:
"Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feeling that prompts me;
Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship!"
Then made answer John Alden: "The name of friendship is sacred;
What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you!"
So the strong will prevailed, subduing and moulding the
Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his
THE LOVER'S ERRAND
So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on his errand,
Out of the street1 of the village, and into the paths of the
1 There was but one street in the village. At the time of our story there were only eleven buildings: seven dwelling houses, two storehouses, a common house, and the fort. Miles Standish occupied the house at the end of the street, nearest the fort. Old pictures show the houses arranged on both sides of the street, Governor Bradford's place being slightly more imposing than its neighbors.