Margaret Smiths Journal | Page 7

which we were sitting.
And when we did all desire to know their import, she repeated them
thus:--
"Sure thou didst flourish once, and many springs, Many bright
mornings, much dew, many showers, Passed o'er thy head; many light
hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodged in thy living towers."
"And still a new succession sings and flies, Fresh groves grow up, and
their green branches shoot Towards the old and still enduring skies,
While the low violet thriveth at their root."
These lines, she said, were written by one Vaughn, a Brecknockshire
Welsh Doctor of Medicine, who had printed a little book not many
years ago. Mr. Richardson said the lines were good, but that he did hold
the reading of ballads and the conceits of rhymers a waste of time, to
say nothing worse. Sir Thomas hereat said that, as far as he could judge,
the worthy folk of New England had no great temptation to that sin
from their own poets, and did then, in a drolling tone, repeat some

verses of the 137th Psalm, which he said were the best he had seen in
the Cambridge Psalm Book:--
"The rivers of Babylon, There when we did sit down, Yea, even then
we mourned when We remembered Sion.
Our harp we did hang it amid Upon the willow-tree; Because there they
that us away Led to captivity!
Required of us a song, and thus Asked mirth us waste who laid, Sing us
among a Sion's song Unto us as then they said."
"Nay, Sir Thomas," quoth Mr. Richardson, "it is not seemly to jest over
the Word of God. The writers of our Book of Psalms in metre held
rightly, that God's altar needs no polishing; and truly they have
rendered the words of David into English verse with great fidelity."
Our young gentleman, not willing to displeasure a man so esteemed as
Mr. Richardson, here made an apology for his jesting, and said that, as
to the Cambridge version, it was indeed faithful; and that it was no
blame to uninspired men, that they did fall short of the beauties and
richness of the Lord's Psalmist. It being now near noon, we crossed
over the river, to where was a sweet spring of water, very clear and
bright, running out upon the green bank. Now, as we stood thirsty,
having no cup to drink from, seeing some people near, we called to
them, and presently there came running to us a young and modest
woman, with a bright pewter tankard, which she filled and gave us. I
thought her sweet and beautiful, as Rebecca of old, at her father's
fountain. She was about leaving, when Mr. Richardson said to her, it
was a foul shame for one like her to give heed to the ranting of the
Quakers, and bade her be a good girl, and come to the meeting.
"Nay," said she, "I have been there often, to small profit. The spirit
which thou persecutest testifieth against thee and thy meeting."
Sir Thomas jestingly asked her if the spirit she spoke of was not such
an one as possessed Mary Magdalen.
"Or the swine of the Gadarenes?" asked Mr. Richardson.
I did smile with the others, but was presently sorry for it; for the young
maid answered not a word to this, but turning to Rebecca, she said,
"Thy father hath been hard with us, but thou seemest kind and gentle,
and I have heard of thy charities to the poor. The Lord keep thee, for
thou walkest in slippery places; there is danger, and thou seest it not;
thou trustest to the hearing of the ear and the seeing of the eye; the Lord

alone seeth the deceitfulness and the guile of man; and if thou wilt cry
mightily to Him, He can direct thee rightly."
Her voice and manner were very weighty and solemn. I felt an awe
come upon me, and Rebecca's countenance was troubled. As the
maiden left us, the minister, looking after said, "There is a deal of
poison under the fair outside of yonder vessel, which I fear is fitted for
destruction."
"Peggy Brewster is indeed under a delusion," answered Robert Pike,
"but I know no harm of her. She is kind to all, even to them who evil
entreat her."
"Robert, Robert!" cried the minister, "I fear me you will follow your
honored father, who has made himself of ill repute, by favoring these
people."--"The Quaker hath bewitched him with her bright eyes,
perhaps," quoth Sir Thomas. "I would she had laid a spell on an uncivil
tongue I wot of," answered Robert, angrily. Hereupon, Mr. Sewall
proposed that we should return, and in making ready and getting to the
boat, the matter was dropped.

NEWBURY, June 1,