Northward marching to quell the sudden revolt 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 billows, advancing,

Fired along the line, and in regular order retreated.

Many a mile had they marched, when at length the village of Plymouth

Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its manifold labours.

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 blowing fair for the Mayflower;

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 Mayflower 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 Mayflower, 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 exstinguished 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.
Bnt with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Alden beheld him
Put on his corslet of steel, and all the rest of his armour,
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 is 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,

Joined in the morning prayer, and in the reading of Scrip

ture,

And, with the others, in haste went hurrying down to the sea-shore,

Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a door-step

Into a world unknown,-the corner-stone of a nation!

There with his boat was the Master, already a little im

patient

Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might shift to the eastward,

Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odour of ocean about him,

Speaking with this one and that, and cramming letters and

parcels

Into his pockets capacious, and messages mingled together Into his narrow brain, till at last he was wholly bewildered. Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot placed on the

gunwale,

One still firm on the rock, and talking at times with the

sailors,

Seated erect on the thwarts, all ready and eager for starting.

He too was eager to go, and thus put an end to his anguish, Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than keel is or

canvas,

Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that would rise and pursue him.

But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the form of Priscilla Standing dejected among them, unconscious of all that was passing.

Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined his intention, Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, imploring and

patient,

That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled from its purpose,

As from the verge of a crag, where one step more is destruction.

Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, mysterious in

stincts!

Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated are moments, Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the wall ada

mantine!

"Here I remain!" he exclaimed, as he looked at the heavens above him,

Thanking the Lord whose breath had scattered the mist and the madness,

Wherein, blind and lost, to death he was staggering head

long.

"Yonder snow-white cloud, that floats in the ether above me, Seems like a hand that is pointing and beckoning over the

ocean.

There is another hand, that is not so spectral, and ghost-like, Holding me, drawing me back, and clasping mine for pro

tection.

Float, O hand of cloud, and vanish away in the ether!
Roll thyself up like a fist, to threaten and daunt me; I heed

not

Either your warning or menace, or any omen of evil'

There is no land so sacred, no air so pure and so wholesome, As is the air she breathes, and the soil that is pressed by her footsteps.

Here for her sake will I stay, and like an invisible presence Hover around her for ever, protecting, supporting her

weakness;

Yes! as my foot was the first that stepped on this rock at the landing,

So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the last at the leaving!"