Whittiers Complete Poems, vol 5 | Page 6

flowers of many kinds, such as I had
never seen in mine own country, very fresh, and glistening with the
dew. Now, when Rebecca took them up, her sister said, "Nay, they are
not Sir Thomas's gift, for young Pike hath just left them." Whereat, as I
thought, she looked vexed, and ill at ease. "They are yours, then,
Cousin Margaret," said she, rallying, "for Robert and you did ride aside
all the way from Agawam, and he scarce spake to me the day long. I
see I have lost mine old lover, and my little cousin hath found a new
one. I shall write Cousin Oliver all about it."
"Nay," said I, "old lovers are better than new; but I fear my sweet
cousin hath not so considered It." She blushed, and looked aside, and
for some space of time I did miss her smile, and she spake little.
May 20.
We had scarcely breakfasted, when him they Call Sir Thomas called on
us, and with him came also a Mr. Sewall, and the minister of the church,
Mr. Richardson, both of whom did cordially welcome home my
cousins, and were civil to my brother and myself. Mr. Richardson and
Leonard fell to conversing about the state of the Church; and Sir
Thomas discoursed us in his lively way. After some little tarry, Mr.
Sewall asked us to go with him to Deer's Island, a small way up the
river, where he and Robert Pike had some men splitting staves for the
Bermuda market. As the day was clear and warm, we did readily agree
to go, and forthwith set out for the river, passing through the woods for
nearly a half mile. When we came to the Merrimac, we found it a great
and broad stream. We took a boat, and were rowed up the river,

enjoying the pleasing view of the green banks, and the rocks hanging
over the water, covered with bright mosses, and besprinkled with pale,
white flowers. Mr. Sewall pointed out to us the different kinds of trees,
and their nature and uses, and especially the sugar-tree, which is very
beautiful in its leaf and shape, and from which the people of this
country do draw a sap wellnigh as sweet as the juice of the Indian cane,
making good treacle and sugar. Deer's Island hath rough, rocky shores,
very high and steep, and is well covered with a great growth of trees,
mostly evergreen pines and hemlocks which looked exceeding old. We
found a good seat on the mossy trunk of one of these great trees, which
had fallen from its extreme age, or from some violent blast of wind,
from whence we could see the water breaking into white foam on the
rocks, and hear the melodious sound of the wind in the leaves of the
pines, and the singing of birds ever and anon; and lest this should seem
too sad and lonely, we could also hear the sounds of the axes and
beetles of the workmen, cleaving the timber not far off. It was not long
before Robert Pike came up and joined us. He was in his working dress,
and his face and hands were much discolored by the smut of the burnt
logs, which Rebecca playfully remarking, he said there were no mirrors
in the woods, and that must be his apology; that, besides, it did not
become a plain man, like himself, who had to make his own fortune in
the world, to try to imitate those who had only to open their mouths, to
be fed like young robins, without trouble or toil. Such might go as
brave as they would, if they would only excuse his necessity. I thought
he spoke with some bitterness, which, indeed, was not without the
excuse, that the manner of our gay young gentleman towards him
savored much of pride and contemptuousness. My beloved cousin, who
hath a good heart, and who, I must think, apart from the wealth and
family of Sir Thomas, rather inclineth to her old friend and neighbor,
spake cheerily and kindly to him, and besought me privately to do
somewhat to help her remove his vexation. So we did discourse of
many things very pleasantly. Mr. Richardson, on hearing Rebecca say
that the Indians did take the melancholy noises of the pinetrees in the
winds to be the voices of the Spirits of the woods, said that they always
called to his mind the sounds in the mulberrytrees which the Prophet
spake of. Hereupon Rebecca, who hath her memory well provided with
divers readings, both of the poets and other writers, did cite very

opportunely some ingenious lines, touching what the heathens do relate
of the Sacred Tree of Dodona, the rustling of whose leaves the negro