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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,

Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of

words but of actions,

Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and

heart of a soldier.

Not in these words, you know, but this in

short is my meaning;

I am a maker of war, and not a maker of

phrases.

You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in

elegant language,

Such as you read in your books of the plead

ings and wooings of lovers,

Such as you think best adapted to win the

heart of a maiden."

[graphic][merged small]

When he had spoken, John Alden, the fairhaired, taciturn stripling,

All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered,

Trying to mask his dismay by treating the

subject with lightness,

Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart

stand still in his bosom,

Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by lightning,

Thus made answer and spake, or rather stam

mered than answered:

"Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it;

If you would have it well done, - I am only repeating your maxim,

You must do it yourself, you must not leave

it to others!"

But with the air of a man whom nothing can

turn from his purpose,

Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth :

"Truly the maxim is good, and I do not

mean to gainsay it;

But we must use it discreetly, and not waste

powder for nothing.

Now, as I said before, I was never a maker

of phrases.

I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender,

But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not.

I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the

mouth of a cannon,

But of a thundering 'No!' point-blank from the mouth of a woman,

That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I

ashamed to confess it!

So you must grant my request, for you are

an elegant scholar,

Having the graces of speech, and skill in the

turning of phrases."

Taking the hand of his friend, who still was

reluctant and doubtful,

Holding it long in his own, and pressing it

kindly, he added:

"Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feeling that prompts

me;

Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship!"

Then made answer John Alden: "The name

of friendship is sacred;

What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you!"

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