mountains and thickly wooded shores of New-England, while, rapidly pressed forward by a favorable wind, the rough outlines of the landscape gradually assumed distinctness, and stood forth in all the glowing beauty and majestic grandeur of nature's coloring. Apart from his companions, stood a young man whose countenance and figure were singularly prepossessing. In an attitude of deep attention, he regarded the new world which stretched around him-his dark eyes now sparkling with admiration, then softening into sadness, and again some object of sublimity or beauty kindling the glow of enthusiasm on his cheek. To him they seemed approaching a wilderness, for already the forests were enveloped in darkness, and the gigantic hills invested with the shadows of twilight. Presently a dim speck appeared on the horizon: it was the little village of Plymouth, the most ancient of the settlements, fast rising into importance, and far-famed for the success and enterprise of its inhabitants. The stranger experienced a momentary disappointment, as he rapidly surveyed the limited dimensions and rude architecture of that new city of refuge.' His fancy had sketched scenes of Arcadian loveliness, and colored the picture which it drew with the fairy tints of romance; but he only saw, rising from the rocky and sea-girt shore, the humble roofs of the Pilgrims, clustered together in two compact lines, and thinly shaded by native trees, each tenement encircled by a patch of vegetation, then wearing the seared and fading hues of autumn. The English colors waved gaily from the battlements of a square fort, which crowned the summit of a commanding eminence, and its flat roof was paced by several persons, who watched with curiosity the approaching vessel. And this is my adopted country!' was his first reflection, accompanied by a deep sigh, as his thoughts reverted to the refinements of polished life to which he had been accustomed. But this involuntary chagrin gave place to other feelings as the ship rode gallantly into the shallow but extensive harbor, and anchored beneath the very rock which, seventeen years before, received the intrepid band of adventurers, who had forsaken the enjoyments and comforts of civilized life, braved the howlings of the wintry blast, the horrors of famine, and the terrors of an unknown wilderness, for 'conscience sake,' reposing an unwavering confidence in Him who had hitherto sustained and kept them as in the 'hollow of his hand.' Major Atherton, in the enthusiasm which the scene inspired, remained lost in a train of reflections, till accosted by the captain of the vessel, who inquired if he had any friend to welcome him on shore. No; I am friendless and a stranger,' he replied, and never had the loneliness of his situation struck so forcibly on his heart; for, looking around, he perceived the vessel was almost deserted, and there were few of his fellow passengers who had not recognized some old acquaintance, and received a cordial greeting. The inhabitants of the town hastened towards the ship, eager to learn tidings from the friends and relatives they had left in their native, and still fondly remembered, country; and it was pleasant to witness the interchange of kind inquirers, the mutual expressions of good-will, and the heart-felt earnestness with which they listened to even the minutest incidents relating to those with whom, though perhaps forever separated, they still felt united by the ties of kindred affection, the sweet sympathies of one common country, and the delightful associations of childhood and youth. Atherton indulged but a moment in gloomy reflections. Naturally cheerful, and always sanguine, he turned to the captain, who still regarded him with an air of kindness, and said, |
