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Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend

of the white men, Northward marching to quell the sudden re

volt 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 bil

lows, advancing, Fired along the line, and in regular order re

treated.

Many a mile had they marched, when at

length the village of Plymouth Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its

manifold labors.

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

May Flower, 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 extinguished the light, and threw him

self 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.

But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight

Alden beheld him
Put on his corslet of steel, and all the rest of

his armor,

Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of

Damascus,

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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 blow

ing fair for the May Flower; 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 May Flower 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

1

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,

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