further than you have seen me follow the Lord Jesus Christ." In the sentiment annexed, there is a wisdom which even in this day has been attained by few:

"The Lord has more truth yet to break forth

out of his holy word. I cannot sufficiently bewail the condition of the reformed Churches which have come to a period in religion, and will go, at present, no further than the instruments of their reformation. Luther and Calvin were great and shining lights in their times; yet they penetrated not into the whole counsel of God. The Lutherans cannot be drawn to go beyond what Luther saw and the Calvinists, you see, stick fast where they were left by that great man of God."

And he further charges them to be ready to receive TRUTH whenever it shall be made known to them.

In 1625,"having finished his course and performed his work," he was taken home. In a letter to Governor Bradford, in reference to his death, occurs the following passage:

"He was taken away even as fruit falleth before it is ripe, when neither length of days nor infirmity of body did seem to call for his end. The Lord even then took him away, as it were in his anger, whom if tears could have held, he would have remained to this day."

April, 1623, found the settlers reduced to severer privations than they had yet known. The corn was exhausted, and faint and staggering for want of food they began to plant for the harvest. All had been hitherto held in common; but as a greater stimulus to labor, the land was now divided, and each man wrought for himself. No sooner had the corn appeared, than a drought set in, and continued for six weeks, so that starvation seemed inevitable; and the more, that a ship dispatched to their relief, after being driven back twice, was wrecked on the coast. In this fearful exigency a day of fasting and prayer was appointed, and the

narrator says::

"In the morning when we assembled together, the heavens were as clear and the drought as likely to continue as ever it was, yet (our exercises continuing some eight or nine hours) before our departure the weather was overcast, the clouds gathered together on all sides, and on the next morning distilled such soft, sweet, and moderate showers of rain, continuing some fourteen days, and mixed with such seasonable weather, as it was hard to say whether our withered corn or drooping affections were most quickened or revived-such was the bounty and goodness of our God."

Having followed the Pilgrims thus through all their sufferings and toils to the dawn of prosperity-the day of magisterial authority-there comes a time of denunciation, of whipping, and banishment, and hanging, which we are glad to pass over. The perilous wandering of Roger Williams, which lasted for fourteen weeks, during which he had no bread nor bed-no shelter from the storm, and no guide or companion—and all for that he pleaded the rights of conscience, has left dark spots on the Puritan character that cannot be washed out.

The public flogging of Anne Burden, who came from London to deliver her message of peace, has left a picture to the world of a whipping-post adjoining the meeting-house; and the meek exclamation of poor Mary Dyer, "The will of the Lord be done," as she folded her hands and awaited on the scaffold the execution, makes us almost deaf to the long prayers of her accusers.

Doubtless they saw at stake truths of eternal moment, and the lives of a few heretics were as nothing in comparison. If it be true that the evil which men do lives after them, and the good perishes with their bones, it is best to discourage the tenacity of bad memories as much as we may by silence.

From "The Pilgrim Fathers," an excellent work to which I have already been much indebted in the compilation of this article, the subjoined particulars of Plymouth as it is now, are gathered :

It is

"It consists of a few principal streets and some straggling by-lanes, running off into the surrounding country-a quiet, old-fashioned place, yet having a cheerful look. charmingly rural, many of the gay rustic looking dwellings being detached, and standing amid gardens full of shrubs and flowers. The principal avenues are lined with wooden houses, often furnished with verandahs, neatly painted white or stone color, and with blinds and shutters of light green. Rows of tall elms with shooting branches meeting overhead give the scene an air of tranquillity and delicious repose."

The street first laid out by the Pilgrims is upon high ground, and below runs "the very sweet brook," the mouth of which afforded harbor for shallops and boats, and in their season abounded with fish. At the head of this street was the hill where the fort was erected, and which was called Fort-hill, now Burial-hill.

The shores are flat, rising with gentle acclivities from the water-with the exception of Captain's-hill, named in honor of Miles Standish, and the ridge of Manomet. From the principal street, Leyden, the descent is steep to another which runs parallel with the seashore, and leads to the Forefathers' Rock. On the left is an abrupt 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 below it, and projecting into the waves, was the rock on which the Pilgrims landed. The scene is greatly changed, and the original features with difficulty traced. A part of the rock was removed from its first position in the time of the revolution for purposes of political excitement, and placed in the Town-square; and thence, finally, 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. A picture of this fragment will be found at the head of the chapter.

The Burying-hill is the most remarkable and conspicuous spot in Plymoutha green mound, rising above the buildings, and set thick with gray tombstones. Its summit commands a wide view of sea and land, embracing the whole field of Pilgrim adventure, from the first arrival till the settlement of Plymouth. The white sandhills of Cape Cod in the distance, the indented shores of the bay, embracing within its wave Clark's Island, Saquish Head, and the Gurnet light, the green hill of Duxbury and the pine-clad ridge of Manomet. But the cemetery itself is the most interesting feature of all. It is covered with dark slate stones, most of them brought from England, and adorned with quaint carvings of death's head and cross bones, and bearing the names of the first comers and their descendants. The graves of the earliest pilgrims are, however, unknown. A column was erected some years ago to the memory of William

Bradford, the stout yeoman of Austerfeld, and afterward honored governor of the settlement of Plymouth. The spot was known to his descendants, many of whom are buried around him. Among these the tomb of one of his sons, Major Bradford, is selected as a good specimen of the style of the more ornamental ones.

TOMB OF MAJOR BRADFORD.

died at the age of seventy-two, and his sepulcher no man knoweth to this day.

In the neighborhood of Plymouth is Captain's-hill-a long slope covered with short thick turf and gray boulders. Here the spring of Miles Standish still flows, and here his house formerly stood. From this point, the course which Standish and his companions took on their first voyage of discovery may be seen. In the distance are the hills of Cape Cod, and the long shore which the shallop explored on her way to Plymouth Bay. The dark pinecovered ridge of Manomet is seen to the south, and to the north the Gurnet Light and the projecting point of Saquish Head, between which were the breakers where the little shallop was so nearly cast away. Near the shore lies Clark's Island, where the half-frozen pilgrims found shelter from the storm; where they kindled a fire, and watched all night, and rested on the Sabbath preceding the memorable Monday when they first trod upon the Rock of Plymouth. This hill was originally occupied by Standish, together with John Alden, Jonathan Brewster, and Thomas Prence; whence they moved to Plymouth in the winter for the greater convenience of attending worship. The hill and some adjacent lands were afterward assigned to Standish, and named Duxbury, after his ancestral estate in England. Some faint indications of the dwelling-house are said to be seen yet, and the spring trickles out freshly through moss and sedge, and among wild flowers finds its way to the

sea.

Many memorials of him are still in existence. His good sword, with a large kettle and dish, are preserved at Plymouth, and are here presented in a group.

The weapon, from an Arabic inscription, is supposed to have really been one of the Damascus blades so famous for temper and keenness. Among the entries of the first winter's mortality is this: "On January 29, died Rose, wife of Captain Standish."

Good Miles seems to have been less successful among the ladies than as a soldier, if tradition be to be trusted. It is related of him, and the story is strikingly characteristic of the Puritan simplicity of heart, that in the course of time the gallant captain sought to fill the melancholy void occasioned by the death of the beloved Rose, and to this end fixed his heart upon one Priscilla, the daughter of William Mullens, as a help-mate for him. Unfortunately, he adopted the singular method of addressing the lady by proxy, and by some strange infatuation chose a young and comely gentleman named John Alden, as the interpreter of his wishes to the fair lady, who was too much pleased with the handsome youth to remember the sober captain at all; and so it fell that as the blushing herald stood stammering forth the proposals of his patron, the lady interrupted him with, " Prythee, John, why do you not speak for yourself?" Upon which the young man did speak for himself, not unsuccessfully, as may be inferred, and the defeated Miles was taught thereafter to woo for himself. No doubt

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courage seems not to have been diminished, for it was not long until a certain Barbara became his wife.

He left several children, of whom his daughter Lora, as appears by his will, died before him :

"My will is, that out of my whole estate my funeral charges be taken, and my body be buried in a decent manner: and if I die in Duxbury, my body be laide as neare as convenient to my two daughters, Lora Standish, my daughter, and Mary Standish, my daughter

in-law."

"Lora Standish is my name. Lord, guide my heart that I may do thy will. Also fill my hands with such convenient skill as may conduce to virtue, void of shame, and I will give the glory to thy name."

The country about Plymouth is naturally hilly, rocky, and barren, and though there is much of almost primeval forest, yet in its vicinity, patches of clearing, rendered fruitful by industry, and containing comfortable and pretty houses, neighbor each other, along the sea-shore, almost continually.

Cape Cod, in the harbor of which the May-Flower first found shelter on her arrival on our coasts, is "an out-of-theway nook, almost cut off from the rest of the world." Arms of the sea, with extensive salt marshes, perforate it so that it may be called half land, half water, the land sandy and covered with grass and dwarf timber, with here and there a spot brought under some degree of cultivation. And the inhabitants are in keeping with their dwellings, depending chiefly upon the sea for subsistence. Many of them, however, when the fishing season is over,

resort to shoemaking, or some other occupation, by which they eke out their subsistence.

The country above the marshes is a remarkable instance "of the triumph of skill and industry over natural obstacles, and nothing can exceed the neatness of the villages, and the comfortable look of the inhabitants."

One of the townships of the Cape bears the name of Brewster, and from Truro to Provincetown has been called the Venice

of New-England. The harbor itself is

one of the finest in the whole line of coast, being completely land-locked, and the entrance accessible, in all winds, to vessels of the largest class. The curve of land by which it is formed is called Longpoint, and at its extremity is a lighthouse, and here, three quarters of a mile from the shore, the May-Flower came to anchor.

are

Considerable remains of the original forest of "oaks, pines, juniper, sassafras, and other sweet woods," are still to be found about Provincetown. The wood for the most part is stunted, though there some specimens of a fine growth. The pilgrims remarked the whales, and regretted that they had no means of capturing them their descendants have made the Cape famous for its whale fisheries. Provincetown is described as a few streets of frame-houses, built on sand, overbung by sand, and approached by sand; and altogether of a wild, singular, and outof-the-way appearance. It is thriving and enterprising, the inhabitants mostly fishers and sailors-their fishing boats perfect models. In the hills behind the town are many places as wild as when first explored by Standish and his brave companions, and imagination is here naturally borne back to the time, two centuries ago, when all the northern states were a wilderness, silent and desolate, save for the hut and the whoop of the Indian; and when the battered May-Flower, pregnant with the mightiest results, rounded the point, making no noise louder than the voice of prayer. From the feeble planting of Plymouth, a grand republic is sprung up, and the influence reflected back upon the old world is incalculable.

In our next number we shall invite the reader to accompany us in an examination of some of the relics and other attractions at Plymouth.