Betty Alden: The first-born daughter of the PilgrimsAustin, Jane G. (Jane Goodwin)
History
Betty Alden: The first-born daughter of the Pilgrims
Austin, Jane G. (Jane Goodwin)
United States -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
Clark’s Island, still covered with its primeval cedars and with its
northern headland unwasted and majestic, lay like a bower upon the
great field of flowing water, and matched Saquish, still an island,
but beginning to throw out tentative arms toward the Gurnet’s Head,
where six hundred years before Thorwald, brother of Leif, wounded unto
death by the savages, desired to be buried, with a cross at his head
and another at his feet, directing that the headland should thenceforth
be known as Krossness. Toward these yearned the loving arm thrown out
by Manomet toward the Duxbury shore,--that arm now reduced to a barren
sandspit, but then a green and fruit-laden peninsula; and within it
glittered in the evening light the harbor, deep enough at that day to
float not only the Mayflower, but Captain Pierce’s Lyon, which now lay
snugly anchored there, while the governor’s barge rowed away toward the
town, bearing Bradford and Winslow home with the jolly mariner as their
guest. Blue smoke-wreaths floating idly upward from Plymouth cottages
told of housewives busy with the evening meal, and upon the crest of
Burying Hill a twinkling gleam now and again showed that Lieutenant
Holmes did not suffer the brasswork of the colony’s guns to grow dim
now that they had come under his care.
But closer at hand than these things stretched the marshes, the
beautiful Duxbury marshes with their grasses full grown and ripe,
reposing under the sunset light like a fair garden, where great masses
of color lay in harmonious contrast, and the heavy heads of seed bent,
and rippled, and rustled to the evening breeze, murmuring sweet secrets
that he carried straight out to sea and buried there.
O man, man! Lay out your modern gardens, and mass your pelargoniums
and calceolarias and begonias and salvias and the rest, in beds of
contrasting color, and then, if you would note your improvement upon
ancient methods, go in the autumn and look at the marshes of the Old
Colony, laid out by Mother Nature before Thorwald selected Krossness
first as his chosen home, and then his chosen grave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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