Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their weapons ; 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, Every sentence began or closed with the name of Priscilla, Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided the secret, Finally closing his book, with a bang of the ponderous cover, 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, “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 his phrases: “ 'Tis not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures. 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. Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary; Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden Priscilla. Died in the winter together; I saw her going and coming, Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever 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, |