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further than you have seen me follow the Having followed the Pilgrims thus Lord Jesus Christ." In the sentiment through all their sufferings and toils to the annexed, there is a wisdom which even in dawn of prosperity—the day of magisterial this day has been attained by few : authority—there comes a time of denun
ciation, of whipping, and banishment, and “ The Lord has more truth yet to break forth hanging, which we are glad to pass over. out of his holy word. I cannot sufficiently bewail the condition of the reformed Churches The perilous wandering of Roger Wilwhich have come to a period in religion, and liams, which lasted for fourteen weeks, will go, at present, no further than the instru- during which he had no bread nor bed—no ments of their reformation. Luther and Calvin shelter from the storm, and no guide or were great and shining lights in their times; yet they penetrated not into the whole counsel companion—and all for that he pleaded the of God. The Luthcrans cannot be drawn to go rights of conscience, has left dark spots on beyond what Luther saw: and the Calvinists, the Puritan character that cannot be washyou sce, stick fast where they were left by that ed out. great man of God."
The public flogging of Anne Burden, And he further charges them to be ready who came from London to deliver her to receive truth whenever it shall be message of peace, has left a picture to the made known to them.
world of a whipping-post adjoining the In 1625, “ having finished his course
meeting-house; and the meek exclamaand performed his work,” he was taken tion of poor Mary Dyer, “ The will of the home. In a letter to Governor Bradford, Lord be done,” as she folded her hands in reference to his death, occurs the fol- | and awaited on the scaffold the execution, lowing passage :
makes us almost deaf to the long prayers
of her accusers. “ He was taken away even as fruit falleth Doubtless they saw at stake truths of before it is ripe, when neither length of days eternal moment, and the lives of a few nor infirmity of body did seem to call for his end. The Lord even then took him away, as it
heretics were as nothing in comparison. were in his anger, whom if tears could have If it be true that the evil which men do held, he would have remained to this day." lives after them, and the good perishes
with their bones, it is best to discourage April, 1623, found the settlers reduced the tenacity of bad memories as much as to severer privations than they had yet we may by silence. known. The corn was exhausted, and From “ The Pilgrim Fathers," an exfaint and staggering for want of food cellent work to which I have already been they began to plant for the harvest. All much indebted in the compilation of this had been hitherto held in common; but as article, the subjoined particulars of Plya greater stimulus to labor, the land was
mouth as it is now, are gathered :now divided, and each man wrought for himself. No sooner had the corn ap "It consists of a few principal streets and peared, than a drought set in, and con some straggling by-lanes, running off into the tinued for six weeks, so that starvation surrounding, country—a quiet, old-fashioned
place, yet having a cheerful look. It is seemed inevitable ; and the more, that a
charmingly rural, many of the gay rustic lookship dispatched to their relief, after being ing dwellings being detached, and standing driven back twice, was wrecked on the amid gardens full of shrubs and flowers. The coast. In this fearful exigency a day of principal avenues are lined with wooden houses,
often furnished with verandahs, neatly painted fasting and prayer was appointed, and the
white or stone color, and with blinds and narrator says:
shutters of light green. Rows of tall elms
with shooting branches meeting overhead give “ In the morning when we assembled to
the scene an air of tranquillity and delicious gether, the heavens were
as clear and the repose." drought as likely to continue as ever it was, yet (our exercises continuing some eight or The street first laid out by the Pilgrims nine hours) before our departure the weather is upon high ground, and below runs“ the was overcast, the clouds gathered together on all sides, and on the next morning distilled very sweet brook,” the mouth of which such soft, sweet, and moderate showers of rain, afforded harbor for shallops and boats, continuing some fourteen days, and mixed with and in their season abounded with fish. such seasonable weather, as it was hard to say At the head of this street was the hill whether our withered corn or drooping affections were most quickened or revived—such where the fort was erected, and which was was the bounty and goodness of our God.” called Fort-hill, now Burial-hill.
The shores are flat, rising with gentle Bradford, the stout yeoman of Austerfeld, acclivities from the water-with the ex- and afterward honored governor of the ception of Captain's-hill, named in honor settlement of Plymouth. The spot was of Miles Standish, and the ridge of Mano- known to his descendants, many of whom met. From the principal street, Leyden, are buried around him. Among these the the descent is steep to another which runs tomb of one of his sons, Major Bradford, parallel with the seashore, and leads to the is selected as a good specimen of the style Forefathers' Rock. On the left is an ab- 1 of the more ornamental ones. rupt ridge, the top of which is covered with grass, but its sides disguised by modern edifices. This is the Cole's-hill, and was the first burial place of the Pilgrims—there are no tombstones, nor other marks to indicate their resting - places now. Formerly this eminence overhung the seabeach, and immediately be
ERE LYES Y BODY OF low it, and projecting into the
Ý HONOURABLE MAJOR waves, was the rock on which the Pilgrims landed. The scene is
WILLIAM BRADFORD greatly changed, and the original
WHO EXPIRED PEBY 20 features with difficulty traced. A part of the rock was removed from
1702 AGED 70 YEARS its first position in the time of the revolution for purposes of political
HELIUED LONG BUT STILL WAS DOING GOOD
SIN HIS COUNTREYS SERVICE LOST MUCH BLOOD excitement, and placed in the
AFTER ALIFE WEIL SPENT HES NOWAT REST Town-square; and thence, finally,
HIS VERY NAME & MEMORY IS RLEST to its present position in front of Pilgrim-hall, where it is surrounded with an iron railing which bids defiance to the patriotic lovers of memorials, who, if it were accessible, would soon break it to pieces.
n A picture of this fragment will be
TOMB OF MAJOR BRADFORD. found at the head of the chapter.
The Burying-hill is the most remark- Upon the southern extremity of this able and conspicuous spot in Plymouth hill was erected a strong timber fort, upon a green mound, rising above the buildings, which they planted their cannon, and and set thick with gray tombstones. Its where watch was kept against the apsummit commands a wide view of sea and proach of the Indians. The building land, embracing the whole field of Pilgrim afterward served for a long time for a adventure, from the first arrival till the meeting-house. On the opposite side of settlement of Plymouth. The white sand- the bay, the view inland extends over an hills of Cape Cod in the distance, the in- irregular ground fringed with primitive dented shores of the bay, embracing within forests. Small lakes surrounded with its wave Clark's Island, Saquish Head, trees lie among the hills, and, notwithand the Gurnet light, the green hill of standing the occasional fields and houses, Duxbury and the pine-clad ridge of Mano the scene retains much of its original met. But the cemetery itself is the most wildness. interesting feature of all. It is covered On the other side of the town brook with dark slate stones, most of them rises a bold eminence crowned with a brought from England, and adorned with wind-mill, and called Watson's-hill. It quaint carvings of death's head and was here that Massisoit first made his cross bones, and bearing the names of the appearance with his Indians; and from the first comers and their descendants. The hollow beneath that, Winslow and his men graves of the earliest pilgrims are, how- advanced to meet them. ever, unknown. A column was erected Many of the tombstones bear the record some years ago to the memory of William of eighty, ninety, and in some cases of a
hundred years; and among the Christian | many conflicts; and here, in 1656, ke names taken from the Old Testament, died at the age of seventy-two, and his may be found such as “Experience," sepulcher no man knoweth to this day. “ Patience," “ Fear,” “ Mercy,” “Wrest
Many memorials of him are still in ling," and the like.
existence. His good sword, with a large In the neighborhood of Plymouth is kettle and dish, are preserved at Plymouth, Captain's-hill—a long slope covered with and are here presented in a group. short thick turf and gray boulders. Here The weapon, from an Arabic inscripthe spring of Miles Standish still flows, tion, is supposed to have really been one and here his house formerly stood. From of the Damascus blades so famous for this point, the course which Standish and temper and keenness. Among the entries his companions took on their first voyage of the first winter's mortality is this : “ On of discovery may be seen. In the distance January 29, died Rose, wife of Captain are the hills of Cape Cod, and the long Standish.” shore which the shallop explored on her Good Miles seems to have been less way to Plymouth Bay. The dark pine- successful among the ladies than as a covered ridge of Manomet is seen to the soldier, if tradition be to be trusted. It is south, and to the north the Gurnet Light related of him, and the story is strikingly and the projecting point of Saquish Head, characteristic of the Puritan simplicity of between which were the breakers where heart, that in the course of time the galthe little shallop was so nearly cast away. lant captain sought to fill the melancholy Near the shore lies Clark's Island, where void occasioned by the death of the bethe half-frozen pilgrims found shelter from loved Rose, and to this end fixed his heart the storm; where they kindled a fire, and upon one Priscilla, the daughter of William watched all night, and rested on the Sab- Mullens, as a help-mate for him. Unforbath preceding the memorable Monday tunately, he adopted the singular method when they first trod upon the Rock of of addressing the lady by proxy, and by Plymouth. This hill was originally oc- some strange infatuation chose a young cupied by Standish, together with John and comely gentleman named John Alden, Alden, Jonathan Brewster, and Thomas as the interpreter of his wishes to the fair Prence; whence they moved to Plymouth lady, who was too much pleased with the in the winter for the greater convenience handsome youth to remember the sober of attending worship. The hill and some captain at all ; and so it fell that as the adjacent lands were afterward assigned blushing herald stood stammering forth to Standish, and named Duxbury, after his the proposals of his patron, the lady inancestral estate in England. Some faint terrupted him with, “ Prythee, John, why indications of the dwelling-house are said do you not speak for yourself?" Upon to be seen yet, and the spring trickles out which the young man did speak for himfreshly through moss and sedge, and self, not unsuccessfully, as may be inamong wild flowers finds its way to the ferred, and the defeated Miles was taught
thereafter to woo for himself. No doubt There lived Miles Standish, after his he was a good deal laughed at, but his
courage seems not to have been diminish- resort to shoemaking, or some other occued, for it was not long until a certain pation, by which they eke out their subBarbara became his wife.
sistence. He left several children, of whom his The country above the marshes is a daughter Lora, as appears by his will, remarkable instance “ of the triumph of died before him :
skill and industry over natural obstacles, “My will is, that out of my whole estate
and nothing can exceed the neatness of my funeral charges be taken, and my body be the villages, and the comfortable look of buried in a decent manner: and if I die in the inhabitants." Duxbury, my body be laide as neare as con
One of the townships of the Cape bears venient to my two daughters, Lora Standish, my daughter, and Mary Standish, my daughter the name of Brewster, and from Truro to in-law.
Provincetown has been called the Venice The annexed is a part of the sampler of New-England. The harbor itself is of this beloved Lora, which is still pre
one of the finest in the whole line of served in Plymouth Hall :
coast, being completely land-locked, and the entrance accessible, in all winds, to
vessels of the largest class. The curve QOCA+ SHARPISA+SEPTAMC) of land by which it is formed is called
Longpoint, and at its extremity is a lightLon+CVIC mp frut. That
house, and here, three quarters of a mile I WL9 ty Due thE WILL ALSO RU.
from the shore, the May-Flower came to Ty Haas VEL SVCHD anchor. OD LILLCHL SKILL ASD
Considerable remains of the original EOMO Ce yo ventv VIDOS forest of “oaks, pines, juniper, sassafras, Sh&Um WILL GIVE
and other sweet woods,” are still to be
found about Provincetown. The wood THLGLORY the rain
for the most part is stunted, though there
some specimens of a fine growth. It is a sample of fine workmanship, and The pilgrims remarked the whales, and the words wrought on it, which may not regretted that they had no means of capbe easily made out, are these :
turing them—their descendants have made “ Lora Standish is my name.
the Cape famous for its whale fisheries.
Lord, guide my heart that I may do thy will.
Provincetown is described as a few streets hands with such convenient skill as may con
of frame-houses, built on sand, overbung duce to virtue, void of shame, and I will give by sand, and approached by sand ; and the glory to thy name."
altogether of a wild, singular, and outThe country about Plymouth is natu- of-the-way appearance.
It is thriving rally hilly, rocky, and barren, and though and enterprising, the inhabitants mostly there is much of almost primeval forest, fishers and sailors-their fishing boats peryet in its vicinity, patches of clearing, fect models. In the hills behind the town rendered fruitful by industry, and con are many places as wild as when first taining comfortable and pretty houses, explored by Standish and his brave comneighbor each other, along the sea-shore, panions, and imagination is here naturally almost continually.
borne back to the time, two centuries ago, Cape Cod, in the harbor of which the when all the northern states were a wilMay-Flower first found shelter on her derness, silent and desolate, save for the arrival on our coasts, is “an out-of-the- hut and the whoop of the Indian ; and wher way nook, almost cut off from the rest of the battered May-Flower, pregnant with the world.” Arms of the sea, with ex- the mightiest results, rounded the point, tensive salt marshes, perforate it so that making no noise louder than the voice of it may be called half land, half water, the prayer.
From the feeble planting of land sandy and covered with grass and Plymouth, a grand republic is sprung up, dwarf timber, with here and there a spot and the influence reflected back upon the brought under some degree of cultivation. old world is incalculable. And the inhabitants are in keeping with In our next number we shall invite the their dwellings, depending chiefly upon reader to accompany us in an examination the sea for subsistence. Many of them, of some of the relics and other attractions however, when the fishing season is over, at Plymouth.
Also fill my
THE RELIGIOUS SCARECROW OF orators — religious platform speakers THE AGE.
palpitating Christian assemblies, could
scarcely see anything above the moral AVE we reason to fear the Pope in horizon of the country, especially west
this country? Of course we do not ward, but the triple tiara expanding out, mean his questionable holiness, personally, like the celestial hemisphere, into a vast but the system which he represents and nightcap over the nation under which
-Popery itself. Of himself per- she was to lie down in a hopeless sleep, a sonally or officially, it would be a very moral nightmare. Now all this was grave joke for us to entertain a single doubtless honest; but it was exceedingly anxiety. He sits in the Vatican, only cowardly — it was all fudge—as events the shadow of what he once
in Europe and this country are daily and the impersonation of decrepitude, smoth- irresistibly demonstrating. It was very ered under the obsolete and grotesque pernicious, too, for it gave undue imhabiliments of a long gone age, and portance to Popery. It set the politicians mumbling from a toothless mouth the to overvaluing (as we shall see directly) language of mere imbecility. What then most egregiously the erical availwould he become here, where our pub- ability of the Roman Catholics at the lic decorum would not allow him any ballot-box, and it gave them that danpublic state, were he even, by the possible gerous influence over the politics of the accidents of these odd times, to be tossed nation, which has been so undeservedly across the waters? The poor old man, held by them for years, which has disconsidered as a poor
old functionary, graced the country, and which now, thanks almost deserves our sympathy—there is to the return of somewhat of our national such a contrast between his present and self-respect, is about to be broken forever. his past figure-his power, once sublime, Popery has lost what we may call its even in its iniquitous grandeur, has be- essential force, even in Europe. This is come such a paltry, impotent pretension. our first argument against its probable There is a great deal of practical farce dangers to our own country. Its central going on still in the governments of the strength is sapped—its very citadel is world, not excepting our own “great undermined. The Abbe de la Mennais, country;" but assuredly there is no more some few years since, proclaimed on his thorough tragic-comedy now enacted return to Paris from Rome, “ Withdraw among the powers of the earth than the the arms of Austria from Italy to-day, Popedom.
and to-morrow, there will be an upWe confess we once were terribly panic- rising of the people against the pope smitten at the prospects of Popery in this and the priesthood, from Turin to the country; but we were then, with most of Calabrias.” The same could be said this our fellow-citizens, in the dark respecting moment in respect to the arms of France. the subject—and men see ghosts only in Loyalty to Popery is dead this hour in the dark. We ventured so far as even to Italy itself, and we should not be surprised, publish a pamphlet expressly against his if at the next popular emeute of Europe holiness — a rampant “bull,” bellowing (which will inevitably come) the head of a with denunciations, as much, we fear, as pope falls, and thus secures, by a demonany of his own. But we have since be- stration which cannot be forgotten, the come heartily ashamed of our cowardice, popular claims of Italy, as the decapitation and never have met with a copy of the of a Stuart did the rights of Englishmen. publication without ' suppressing” it. What now is the influence of the Roman We feel a little malicious at his holiness, court in the affairs of Europe ? Nothing as we pen these lines, for having occasion at all. It is a significant fact that in the ed us such unnecessary trepidation. present struggle, involving more or less
We hardly know whether to consider almost all the European courts, we hardly it an apology for our alarm that the Chris- | hear a reference to the pope. A few gentian public generally shared it—to such an erations ago his diplomacy guided all the extent in fact, that it became an almost great movements of the continent. universal infection. It was the mighty, What is a Pope's bull now-a-days? invincible argument for almost every Nothing but a religious epistle to his ec“religious enterprise " among us. Pulpit clesiastics against heresy, Bible societies,