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Nor can I concur with him who said that · Half a word upon the spot is worth a whole cart-load of recollections. An epistolary journal grows not unlike old wine. As for oblivion, its cold shadow can never attain to Baden-Baden. Indeed, it is, after all, greatly to be wished that the ‘Fool's Paradise' were less rife with those matchless associations which make the American reminiscent, on his return home, wish to HEAVEN that the Atlantic were LETHE, so that he might have drowned his pertinacious mistress Mnemosyne, the Syren who will continue to sing sweetly and maliciously in his ear.
LAYS OF QUA KERDOM
THE EXECUTION OF MARY DYER, AT BOSTON,
JOB TIRST, 16 5 3.
With his household, quaint and simple, l 'FATHER, tell us of the Quakers,'
(Did the children say,) By the fire-light sat a QUAKER, 'How the cruel Pilgrim rulers In the winter time;
Drove the Friends away; Moved in feeling by the pealing Tell us how they whipped and killed Of the Christmas chime:
them Little looked he to the outward;
In that olden day,
When they hung poor MARY DTER — To his inward faith and worship,
Cruel men were they.'
FEARFUL was the inward conflict
Ere he made reply,
For his nature, brave and martial,
Broke so bold and high
Into flame along his forehead,
Lightning from his eye,
As the martyrs of his people
Passed in spirit by,
For the battle-cry.
So the fiery indignation
Through his pulses ran,
For a moinent, ere the Christian
Triumphed o'er the Man;
And his tones were deep and thrilling Two brave boys beside the mother
As the tale began:
Sate the Puritanic rulers,
In a stately row,
On his lip and brow,
Thronged the court below; Upward far, to meet the star-light, | Then came MICHELSON the Marshal, - Swept the sounding chime,
Filled with savage ire, As the centuries shall hear it
Through the motley crowd of gazers,
Thrusting Mary DYER,
In her quaint attire;
As the people pressed asunder
Round her foot-steps close,
O'er a host of foes; While the echo star-ward dying, Then, the clerk commanding silence, Seemed each martyr's knell.
In their light the mists and shadows
From the future roll.
Lol I see a power arising 'ARE you that same Mary DYER,
Ye shall not control;
E'en the LORD of Hosts, in mercy, Whom our erring mercy saving
Seeking all your land;
Judge and ruler, priest and people, Banished from the jurisdiction
In His presence stand;
And your boasted power He holdeth
In His mighty hand. Calm and steadfast then she answered:
Cease your cruel persecutions "Truly I am she,
Ere these days expire, Whom your General Court appointed
| And He cometh in His judgments To the gallows-tree,
With consuming fire,
As of old He came to Edom,
To Sidon and to Tyre,
And ye reap a bloody harvest,
Reap as ye have sown, * By the council that condemned you
And the lofty spires ye builded
Reel and thunder down,
And the wo of desolation
Fills your ruined town;
In deserted habitations
Only Death may dwell,
When God leaveth no one living
Of His wrath to tell. Where your brethren died. • Look not for a second respite —
Cease, oh! cease your persecutions Hope for aid from none;
All may yet be well.'
So she ended. Awe and silence
O'er the council fell.
'And did God,' asked little Mary, To the power that kills the body
'All the town destroy?' He hath bid us yield; Weapons of a carnal warfare
"Wait and hear the story ended,' Are not ours to wield;
Said the elder boy: He will clothe us in His armor - 'If they ceased their persecutions, Guard us with His shield.'
GOD would not destroy.'
| MORNING O'er the Pilgrim city
Breaking still and sweet, And there was a light of glory
Heard the deep and mingled murmur Beaming from her eye,
Of the hurrying feet,
And the voices of the people
Thronging to the street;
From afar the heavy rolling
Of the muffled drum,
With the measured tread of soldiers Gazed the vulgar crowd;
And the general hum, While her words went through the still- Warned the captive in the prison
That the hour had come.
All her simple garb arranging
With a decent care,
Knelt she in a holy silence,
Lost in secret prayer,
While her radiant face attested
God was with her there.
At the Marshal's brutal summons Seemed she in transfiguration;
Such a light was shed,
Round about her head,
The effulgence spread.
Then one WEBB, the burly captain,
Rising, roughly said:
Mary, be your blood upon you;
Falsely you are led;
By the Law, which you have broken,
And he gave the fearful signal,
While she meekly bowed;
Fell the fatal drop beneath her;
And their households nigh, And a cold and dismal shudder
Ran through all the crowd.
For the people stood awe-stricken
When the deed was done;
Stealing o'er the sun, And her meek face bent in pity
Feared the dreaded day of vengeance
Had that hour begun;
With their outward eyes,
With a slow majestic motion
Floating to the skies;
Ever upward, upward ever,
Star-like, out of view,
Smiling as it joined the angels,
Smiling still, adieu ;
And all these believed the martyr's To your distant home and kindred
Faith and Word were true.
Lived and prophesied,
For the noble Pilgrim people
Curbed their ruler's pride.
Grew and multiplied,
For their faith one other martyr
Was the last who died. *
* The incidents of the poem are purely historical ; the actors, their names and titles, are all real; and times and places are according to the annals.
Mary Dyer was a respectable woman, the wife of a reputable inhabitant of Rhode-Island, and the mother of several children. Believing it to be her duty to accompany two friends to Boston, to induce the authorities to repeal the sanguinary laws against Quakers and other dissenters, they went there in September, 1659. The three were arrested 'for being Quakers,'tried as heretics, and banished under pain of death, being allowed two days to depart. Found subse
EXTRACTS FROM A TRAVELLER'S NOTE-BOOK.
BY WILITAX w. CAMPBELL.
IONA AND STAFF A.
It was a dismal, rainy day when we dropped our anchor near Iona. Wet and weary, I first set foot on the sands of this famous island. The Christian pilgrim, wandering over the plains of ancient Judea, standing for the first time in the streets of the modern Jerusalem, can hardly realize that he is upon the spot which has been rendered memorable by the life and the death of the Son of God. Disappointment may come at first; but as he reflects, amid the sacred places which our Saviour frequented while on earth, imagination more easily cements the present with the past history of our race and the world, and then kindles up, as the thought steals on, that the hoary hills which stand around the sacred city have been witnesses of events which not only connect the present with the past, but which link all the present and all the past with the great, unbounded, and never-ending future. The traveller, also, who feels sympathy with the advance of Christian learning, truth, and civilization, can hardly fail to have his sensibilities awakened as he visits cities and islands which were frequented by the early followers of the Cross. Iona is a sacred spot. As we approached it, there was some feeling of disappointment. True, in my own experience, were the lines of Wordsworth:
How sad a welcome! to each voyager
quently within the jurisdiction, they were again arrested and sentenced to death. The two men were executed on the afternoon of October twenty-seventh, and their dead bodies subjected to the most revolting indignities : denied burial, or coffins, or clothing, they were thrown naked into a pit, which happening to fill with water, alone protected them from beasts of prey.
MARY Dyer was reprieved under the gallows at the intercession of her son, and sent home; but returning in April following, she was again arrested, the sentence confirmed, and she led to execution on the morning of June first, 1660.
The distance to the gallows was one mile; and the drums were ordered to beat whenever she attempted to speak on her way thither. On the scaffold her life was again offered her, if she would for ever depart the jurisdiction ; but she could not accept such conditions.
Her meekness, Christian endurance, and death, aroused great sympathy in the colonies, as well as in England, and she was the last but one of the Quakers put to death in America, for the royal mandamus of CHARLES II., requiring their liberation from prison and exemption from persecution, was signed by the King, September ninth, 1660, and proclaimed in New England about two months after ; whereupon the Quakers held a general thanksgiving in Boston.
History has few examples of greater suffering, or of higher heroism, than were endured and exhibited by the early Quakers in various parts of the world; and the author of MARLY DYER proposes to commemorate the great events of Quaker history in a series of similar lyrics, comprising about ten in number, to appear from time to time in the KNICKERBOCKER, if they shall prove acceptable to its readers.
The second 'Lay' will have for its subject the visit of MARY FISHER (a Quaker lady of beauty and culture, who had been scourged and imprisoned repeatedly in New England) to Sultan MAHOMET IV., at Adrianople, fifty years before Madame MONTAGUE's journey there, and which, taken all in all, is an act of the purest heroism in human annals.