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There were the graves of the dead, and the barren

waste of the sea-shore, There the familiar fields, the groves of pine, and

the meadows; But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed as the

Garden of Eden, Filled with the presence of God, whose voice was

the sound of the ocean.

Soon was their vision disturbed by the noise

and stir of departure, Friends coming forth from the house, and im

patient of longer delaying, Each with his plan for the day, and the work that

was left uncompleted. Then from a stall near at hand, amid exclama

tions of wonder, Alden the thoughtful, the careful, so happy, so

proud of Priscilla, Brought out his snow-white steer, obeying the

hand of its master, Led by a cord that was tied to an iron ring in its

nostrils, Covered with crimson cloth, and a cushion placed

for a saddle.

She should not walk, he said, through the dust

and heat of the noonday;

[graphic]

Nay, she should ride like a queen, not plod along

like a peasant. Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by the

others, Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in the

hand of her husband, Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted her

palfrey. “Nothing is wanting now," he said with a smile,

“but the distaff; Then you would be in truth my queen, my beauti

ful Bertha !”

Onward the bridal procession now moved to

their new habitation, Happy husband and wife, and friends conversing

together. Pleasantly murmured the brook, as they crossed

the ford in the forest, Pleased with the image that passed, like a dream

of love through its bosom, Tremulous, floating in air, o'er the depths of the

azure abysses. Down through the golden leaves the sun was pour

ing his splendors,

[graphic]

LIKE A PICTURE IT SEEMED OF THE PRIMITIVE, PASTORAL AGES.

Page 109.

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