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nd what a fate awaits thee ? — a sadly toiling slave,
Dragging the slowly lengthening chain of bondage to the grave !
Think of thy woman's nature, subdued in hopeless thrall,
The easy prey of any, the scoff and scorn of all ! ”

Oh ! — ever as the Tempter spoke, and feeble Nature's fears
Wrung drop by drop the scalding flow of unavailing tears,
I wrestled down the evil thoughts, and strove in silent prayer,
To feel, oh, Helper of the weak !— that Thou indeed wert there!

I thought of Paul and Silas, within Phillippi's cell,
And how from Peter's sleeping limbs the prison-shackles fell,
Till I seemed to hear the trailing of an angel's robe of white,
And to feel a blessed presence invisible to sight.

Bless the Lord for all His mercies ! for the peace and love I

felt,
Like dew of Hermon's holy hill, upon my spirit melt ;
When, “ Get behind me, Satan!” was the language of my heart,
And I felt the Evil Tempter with all his doubts depart.

Slow broke the gray cold morning ; again the sunshine fell,
Flecked with the shade of bar and grate within my lonely cell ;
The hoar frost melted on the wall, and upward from the street
Came careless laugh and idle word, and tread of passing feet.

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At length the heavy bolts fell back, my door was open cast,
And slowly at the sheriff's side, up the long street I passed ;
I heard the murmur round me, and felt, but dared not see,
How, from every door and window, the people gazed on me.
And doubt and fear fell on me, shame burned upon my cheek,
Swam earth and sky around me, my trembling limbs grew weak:

Oh, Lord ! support thy handmaid ; and from her soul cast out
The fear of man, which brings a snare the weakness and the

doubt.”

Then the dreary shadows scattered like a cloud in morning's

breeze, And a low deep voice within me seemed whispering words like

these :

“ Though thy earth be as the iron, and thy heaven a brazen

wall, Trust still His loving kindness whose power is over all.”

We paused at length, where at my feet the sunlit waters broke On glaring reach of shining beach, and shingly wall of rock ; The merchant-ships lay idly there, in hard clear lines on high, Tracing with rope and slender spar their net-work on the sky.

And there were ancient citizens, cloak-wrapped and grave and

cold, And grim and stout sea-captains with faces bronzed and old, And on his horse, with Rawson, his cruel clerk at hand, Sat dark and haughty Endicott, the ruler of the land.

And poisoning with his evil words the ruler's ready ear,
The priest leaned o'er his saddle, with laugh and scoff and jeer;
It stirred my soul, and from my lips the seal of silence broke,
As if through woman's weakness a warning spirit spoke.

I cried, “ The Lord rebuke thee, thou smiter of the meek,
Thou robber of the righteous, thou trampler of the weak !
Go light the dark, cold hearth-stones -go turn the prison lock
Of the poor hearts thou hast hunted, thou wolf amid the flock !”

Dark lowered the brows of Endicott, and with a deeper red O'er Rawson's wine-empurpled cheek the flush of anger spread ; “Good people," quoth the white-lipped priest,, "heed not her

words so wild, Her Master speaks within her the Devil owns his child !”

But gray heads shook, and young brows knit, the while the

sheriff read
That law the wicked rulers against the poor have made,
Who to their house of Rimmon and idol priesthood bring
No bended knee of worship, nor gainful offering.

Then to the stout sea-captains the sheriff turning said :
“ Which of ye, worthy seamen, will take this Quaker maid ?
In the Isle of fair Barbadoes, or on Virginia's shore,
You may hold her at a higher price than Indian girl or Moor.”

Grim and silent stood the captains ; and when again he cried, “Speak out, my worthy seamen !” — no voice, no sign replied ; But I felt a hard hand press my own, and kind words met my

ear:

“God bless thee, and preserve thee, my gentle girl and dear!” A weight seemed lifted from my heart, - a pitying friend was

nigh, I felt it in his hard, rough hand, and saw it in his eye ; And when again the sheriff spoke, that voice, so kind to me, Growled back its stormy answer like the roaring of the sea : ( “ Pile my ship with bars of silver — pack with coins of Spanish

gold, From keel-piece up to deck-plank, the roomage of her hold, By the living God who made me ! — I would sooner in your

bay Sink ship and crew and cargo, than bear this child away !” “ Well answered, worthy captain, shame on their cruel laws !” Ran through the crowd in murmurs loud the people's just

applause.) “ Like the herdsman of Tekoa, in Israel of old, Shall we see the poor and righteous again for silver sold ? ”

I looked on haughty Endicott ; with weapon half way drawn, Swept round the throng his lion glare of bitter hate and scorn ; Fiercely he drew his bridle rein, and turned in silence back, And sneering priest and baffled clerk rode murmuring in his

track.

Hard after them the sheriff looked, in bitterness of soul ;
Thrice smote his staff upon the ground, and crushed his parch-

ment roll. “ Good friends,” he said, “ since both have fled, the ruler and

the priest, Judge ye, if from their further work I be not well released.”

Loud was the cheer which, full and clear, swept round the silent

bay, As, with kind words and kinder looks, he bade me go my way ;

For He who turns the courses of the streamlet of the glen,
And the river of great waters, had turned the hearts of men.

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Oh, at that hour the very earth seemed changed beneath my

eye,
A holier wonder round me rose the blue walls of the sky,
A lovelier light on rock and hill, and stream and woodland lay,
And softer lapsed on sunnier sands the waters of the bay.

Thanksgiving to the Lord of life! - to Him all praises be,
Who from the hands of evil men hath set His handmaid free ;
All praise to Him before whose power the mighty are afraid,
Who takes the crafty in the snare, which for the poor is laid !

Sing, oh, my soul, rejoicingly, on evening's twilight calm
Uplift the loud thanksgiving — pour forth the grateful psalm ;
Let all dear hearts with me rejoice, as did the saints of old,
When of the Lord's good angel the rescued Peter told.

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And weep and howl, ye evil priests and mighty men of wrong,
The Lord shall smite the proud and lay His hand upon the

strong.
Wo to the wicked rulers in His avenging hour !
Wo to the wolves who seek the flocks to raven and devour :

But let the humble ones arise, — the poor in heart be glad,
And let the mourning ones again with robes of praise be clad,
For He who cooled the furnace, and smoothed the stormy wave,
And tamed the Chaldean lions, is mighty still to save !

FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS.

AROUND Sebago's lonely lake
There lingers not a breeze to break
The mirror which its waters make.

The solemn pines along its shore,
The firs which hang its gray rocks o'er,
Are painted on its glassy floor.

The sun looks o'er, with hazy eye,
The snowy mountain-tops which lie
Piled coldly up against the sky.

Dazzling and white ! save where the bleak,
Wild winds have bared some splintering peak,
Or snow-slide left its dusky streak.

Yet green are Saco's banks below,
And belts of spruce and cedar show,
Dark fringing round those cones of snow.

The earth hath felt the breath of spring,
Though yet on her deliverer's wing
The lingering frosts of winter cling.

* Polan, a chief of the Sokokis Indians, the original inhabitants of the country lying between Agamenticus and Casco bay, was killed in a skirmish at Windham, on the Sebago lake, in the spring of 1756. He claimed all the lands on both sides of the Presumpscot river to its mouth at Casco, as his own. He was shrewd, subtle, and brave. After the white men had retired, the surviving Indians “swayed” or bent down a young tree until its roots were turned up, placed the body of their chief beneath them, and then released the tree to spring back to its former position

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