Tales and Sketches | Page 4

the dark old woods away, And gave the virgin fields to the day
And the pea and the bean beside the door Bloomed where such flowers
ne'er bloomed before; And the maize stood up, and the bearded rye
Bent low in the breath of an unknown sky."
Beyond, extended the great forest, vast, limitless, unexplored, whose
venerable trees had hitherto bowed only to the presence of the storm,
the beaver's tooth, and the axe of Time, working in the melancholy
silence of natural decay. Before the dwellings of the white adventurers,
the broad Merrimac rolled quietly onward the piled-up foliage of its
shores, rich with the hues of a New England autumn. The first sharp
frosts, the avant couriers of approaching winter, had fallen, and the
whole wilderness was in blossom. It was like some vivid picture of
Claude Lorraine, crowded with his sunsets and rainbows, a natural
kaleidoscope of a thousand colors. The oak upon the hillside stood
robed in summer's greenness, in strong contrast with the topaz- colored
walnut. The hemlock brooded gloomily in the lowlands, forming, with
its unbroken mass of shadow, a dark background for the light maple
beside it, bright with its peculiar beauty. The solemn shadows of the
pine rose high in the hazy atmosphere, checkered, here and there, with
the pale yellow of the birch.

"Truly, Alice, this is one of God's great marvels in the wilderness," said
John Ward, the minister, and the original projector of the settlement, to
his young wife, as they stood in the door of their humble dwelling.
"This would be a rare sight for our friends in old Haverhill. The wood
all about us hath, to my sight, the hues of the rainbow, when, in the
words of the wise man, it compasseth the heavens as with a circle, and
the hands of the Most High have bended it. Very beautifully hath He
indeed garnished the excellent works of His wisdom."
"Yea, John," answered Alice, in her soft womanly tone; "the Lord is,
indeed, no respecter of persons. He hath given the wild savages a more
goodly show than any in Old England. Yet, John, I am sometimes very
sorrowful, when I think of our old home, of the little parlor where you
and I used to sit of a Sunday evening. The Lord hath been very
bountiful to this land, and it may be said of us, as it was said of Israel
of old, 'How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob! and thy tabernacles, O
Israel!' But the people sit in darkness, and the Gentiles know not the
God of our fathers."
"Nay," answered her husband, "the heathen may be visited and
redeemed, the spirit of the Lord may turn unto the Gentiles; but a more
sure evil hath arisen among us. I tell thee, Alice, it shall be more
tolerable in the day of the Lord, for the Tyre and Sidon, the Sodom and
Gomorrah of the heathen, than for the schemers, the ranters, the
Familists, and the Quakers, who, like Satan of old, are coming among
the sons of God."
"I thought," said Alice, "that our godly governor had banished these out
of the colony."
"Truly he hath," answered Mr. Ward, "but the evil seed they have sown
here continues to spring up and multiply. The Quakers have, indeed,
nearly ceased to molest us; but another set of fanatics, headed by
Samuel Gorton, have of late been very troublesome. Their family has
been broken up, and the ring-leaders have been sentenced to be kept at
hard labor for the colony's benefit; one being allotted to each of the old
towns, where they are forbidden to speak on matters of religion. But
there are said to be many still at large, who, under the encouragement
of the arch-heretic, Williams, of the Providence plantation, are even
now zealously doing the evil work of their master. But, Alice," he
continued, as he saw his few neighbors gathering around a venerable

oak which had been spared in the centre of the clearing, "it is now near
our time of worship. Let us join our friends."
And the minister and his wife entered into the little circle of their
neighbors. No house of worship, with spire and tower, and decorated
pulpit, had as yet been reared on the banks of the Merrimac. The stern
settlers came together under the open heavens, or beneath the shadow
of the old trees, to kneel before that God, whose works and
manifestations were around them.
The exercises of the Sabhath commenced. A psalm of the old and
homely version was sung, with true feeling, if not with a perfect regard
to musical effect and harmony. The brief but fervent prayer was offered,
and the good man had just announced the text for his sermon,