The Knight of the Golden Melice eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 406 pages of information about The Knight of the Golden Melice.

“Nature’s children!” he said to himself, “It would have pained me had I unfortunately killed one of them.  Blessed Jesu, I thank thee for saving me from bloodshedding.”

He threw himself on the ground, and watched their proceedings in cooking the venison with some interest, for he was hungry, and, when it was ready, partook of it with them as though they had been a party of friendly hunters, nor would any one have suspected that he was a prisoner.  Having thus placed himself on terms as little disagreeable as possible with his captors, Sir Christopher endeavored, while they were under the influence of the welcome dinner, to dissuade them from their purpose in regard to himself, but on this point he found remonstrance useless.  The Indians were not inclined to talk about it, and either preserved a total silence, or simply said that the white chief at Accomack had sent them.  When they had eaten up the buck, they started with the Knight in the direction of Plymouth.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

  Well skilled he was in regulating laws,
  So as by law he could defend the cause
  Of poor distressed plaintiff, when he brought
  His case before him and for help besought. 
  Above all other men he loved those
  Who gospel truths most faithfully unclose,
  Who were with grace and learning fully fraught.

  MORTON’S NEW ENGLAND’S MEMORIAL.

The ancient town of Plymouth has probably about as much resemblance to what it was two hundred years ago, as an ante-diluvian at a like age had to his boyhood.  Were Governor Bradford, whose worth is more quaintly than poetically delineated in the above lines, Captain Miles Standish, Master Thomas Prince, or any other worthies of those days of peaked hats and falling bands to revisit the scenes of their pilgrim labors, I fancy that they would find it difficult at first to recognize them.  By the eternal features, only, of nature, the sparkling waters of the bay, the waving line of its shore, and by the eminences not wholly levelled, would the site be identified, and the likeness traced.  Only with memory, assisted by these marks, might they be able, as the moonbeams fell upon their pale faces, and they stroked their solemn beards, to exclaim—­here stood our Plymouth.

As it presented itself that day to the eyes of Sir Christopher Gardiner, surrounded by his Indian escort, it seemed an inconsiderable village lying on the slope of a hill, dropping towards the sea.  A broad street, some eight hundred yards long, led down the hill, and was crossed nearly in the middle by another, the ends of which were protected by gates made of solid planks—­the fourth end, viz:  that on the hay, being without any barricade.  The houses were rude and small, constructed of hewn planks, and stood in areas, around which were thrown fences made also of plank, serving as very effectual stockades against any sudden attack, and bidding defiance to

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The Knight of the Golden Melice from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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