At Plymouth the Pilgrims had been longer in America, and the first flush of initial excitement had abated. The pulse-beat there was calmer, for they were more learned in woodcraft than the later comers. Yet even at Plymouth the jog-trot of events was occasionally broken. There is a traditionary anecdote, illustrative of the danger of one gentleman’s commissioning another to do his wooing for him, which doubtless created an unwonted stir in the sedate old town at the time. It seems that Miles Standish had buried his wife some time after his arrival in New England; on which he thus communed with himself: “‘’Tis not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures. This I have said before; and again and again I repeat it; Every hour in the day I think it, and feel it, and say it. Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary. Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship.’” So Standish resolved to wed again. He had already taken a fancy to Miss Priscilla Mullins, one of the sweetest of the Puritan maidens; and he said: “‘Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of this maiden, Priscilla. She is alone in the world. Her father, and mother, and brother, Died in the winter together. I saw her going and coming, Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying; Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven, Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned.’” Therefore the captain resolved to woo her. But, “Being a coward in this, though valiant enough for the most part,” he decided to do it by proxy; so he selected John Alden, his secretary— “Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion, Having the dew of youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives Whom St. Gregory saw, and exclaimed, ‘Not Angles, but angels.’ Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.” “John,” said he, “‘Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth; Say that the blunt old captain, a man not of words, but of actions, Offers his hand and heart—the hand and heart of a soldier. You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant language, Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers; Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden.’”