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Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose

from the meadows, There was a stir and a sound in the slumbering

village of Plymouth; Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order im

perative, "Forward !”

Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and then

silence. Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly out of

the village. Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his

valorous army, Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend of

the white men, 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 re


Many a mile had they marched, when at length

the village of Plymouth

Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its mani

fold labors. 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 re

joiced 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.

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