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“ He is a little chimney, and heated hot in a

moment!" But as he gently rebuked her, and told her how

much he had suffered, How he had even determined to sail that day

in the May Flower, And had remained for her sake, on hearing the

dangers that threatened, All her manner was changed, and she said with

a faltering accent, “ Truly I thank you for this: how good you

have been to me always!”

Thus, as a pilgrim devout, who toward Jeru

salem journeys, Taking three steps in advance, and one reluc

tantly backward, Urged by importunate zeal, and withheld by

pangs of contrition; Slowly but steadily onward, receding yet ever


Journeyed this Puritan youth to the Holy Land

of his longings, Urged by the fervor of love, and withheld by

remorseful misgivings.



MEANWHILE the stalwart Miles Standish was

marching steadily northward, Winding through forest and swamp, and along

the trend of the sea-shore, All day long, with hardly a halt, the fire of his

anger Burning and crackling within, and the sul

phurous odor of powder Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all

the scents of the forest.

Silent and moody he went, and much he re

volved his discomfort;

He who was used to success, and to easy vic

tories always, Thus to be flouted, rejected, and laughed to

scorn by a maiden, Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the friend

whom most he had trusted! Ah! 'twas too much to be borne, and he fret

ted and chafed in his armor!

"I alone am to blame,” he muttered, “ for

mine was the folly. What has a rough old soldier, grown grim and

gray in the harness, Used to the camp and its ways, to do with the

wooing of maidens ? 'T was but a dream, — let it pass, — let it van

ish like so many others! What I thought was a flower, is only a weed,

and is worthless ; Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw it

away, and henceforward

Be but a fighter of battles, a lover and wooer

of dangers !” Thus he revolved in his mind his sorry defeat

and discomfort, While he was marching by day or lying at

night in the forest, Looking up at the trees, and the constellations

beyond them.

After a three days' march he came to an In

dian encampment Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the

sea and the forest; Women at work by the tents, and the warriors,

horrid with war-paint, Seated about a fire, and smoking and talking

together; Who, when they saw from afar the sudden ap

proach of the white men, Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and

sabre and musket,

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