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"Good neighbors mine," he sternly said, "This passes harmless mirth or jest; I brook no insult to my guest.

"She is indeed her mother's child; But God's sweet pity ministers Unto no whiter soul than hers.

"Let Goody Martin rest in peace;
I never knew her harm a fly,
And witch or not, God knows,—not I.

"I know who swore her life away; And, as God lives, I'd not condemn An Indian dog on word of them."

The broadest lands in all the town,

The skill to guide, the power to awe,
Were Harden's; and his word was law.

None dared withstand him to his face,
But one sly maiden spake aside:
"The little witch is evil-eyed!

"Her mother only killed a cow,

Or witched a churn or dairy-pan;
But she, forsooth, must charm a man!"

Poor Mabel, in her lonely home,

Sat by the window's narrow pane,
White in the moonlight's silver rain.

The river, on its pebbled rim,

Made music such as childhood knew;

The door-yard tree was whispered through

By voices such as childhood's ear
Had heard in moonlights long ago;
And through the willow-boughs below

She saw the rippled waters shine;
Beyond, in waves of shade and light
The hills rolled off into the night.

Sweet sounds and pictures mocking so
The sadness of her human lot,
She saw and heard, but heeded not.

She strove to drown her sense of wrong,
And, in her old and simple way,

To teach her bitter heart to pray.

Poor child! the prayer, begun in faith,
Grew to a low, despairing cry
Of utter misery: "Let me die!

"Oh! take me from the scornful eyes And hide me where the cruel speech And mocking finger may not reach!

"I dare not breathe my mother's name: A daughter's right I dare not crave To weep above her unblest grave!

"Let me not live until my heart, With few to pity, and with none To love me, hardens into stone.

"O God! have mercy on thy child, Whose faith in thee grows weak and small, And take me ere I lose it all!"

A shadow on the moonlight fell,

And murmuring wind and wave became
A voice whose burden was her name.

Had then God heard her? Had he sent
His angel down? In flesh and blood,
Before her Esek Harden stood!

He laid his hand upon her arm:
"Dear Mabel, this no more shall be;
Who scoffs at you, must scoff at me.

"You know rough Esek Harden well; And if he seems no suitor gay,

And if his hair is touched with gray,

"The maiden grown shall never find

His heart less warm than when she smiled, Upon his knees, a little child!"

Her tears of grief were tears of joy,
As, folded in his strong embrace,
She looked in Esek Harden's face.

“O truest friend of all!” she said,

"God bless you for your kindly thought, And make me worthy of my lot!"

He led her through his dewy fields,

To where the swinging lanterns glowed, And through the doors the huskers showed.

"Good friends and neighbors!" Esek said, "I'm weary of this lonely life;

In Mabel see my chosen wife!

"She greets you kindly, one and all; The past is past, and all offence

Falls harmless from her innocence.

"Henceforth she stands no more alone; You know what Esek Harden is:He brooks no wrong to him or his."

Now let the merriest tales be told,
And let the sweetest songs be sung
That ever made the old heart young!

For now the lost has found a home;
And a lone hearth shall brighter burn,
As all the household joys return!

O, pleasantly the harvest-moon,

Between the shadow of the mows,
Looked on them through the great elm-boughs!

On Mabel's curls of golden hair,

On Esek's shaggy strength it fell;

And the wind whispered, "It is well!"

23

SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE1

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

Of all the rides since the birth of time,
Told in story or sung in rhyme,—
On Apuleius's Golden Ass,2

Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass,
Witch astride of a human back,

4

6

Islam's prophet on Al-Borák,— 5
The strangest ride that ever was sped
Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead !
Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
By the women of Marblehead!

Body of turkey, head of owl,
Wings adroop like a rained-on fowl,
Feathered and ruffled in every part,

Skipper Ireson stood in the cart.

1. "The story of 'Skipper Ireson' was told to Mr. Whittier by a schoolmate at the Academy, who came from Marblehead. He supposed it was a tradition of the last century, was not aware that the poor man who was so harshly treated was a contemporary of his own; for the poet was nearly a year old when the Skipper took his ride." Pickard, Life and Letters of Whittier.

It is but justice to say that, according to Mr. Samuel Roads his History and Tradition of Marblehead, Ireson was probably not more to blame than his crew; and, possibly, not at all. He seems to

have tried to stay by the sinking vessel, but his crew refused to obey. Fearing the wrath of the people of Marblehead, they threw all the blame upon Skipper Ireson. It is interesting to note that during the ride, Ireson maintained a dignified silence, and after he was released his only remark was, "I thank you for my ride, gentlemen, but you

will live to regret it. And they did.

2. Apuleius's Golden Ass. "The Golden Ass," a romance by Apuleius, a Roman philosopher of about the second century.

3. Calendar's horse of brass. The reference is to a wonderful horse of brass in the Arabian Nights.

4.

5.

Islam's prophet. Mohammed.

Al-Borák. A wonderful animal with a human face, two wings, and a peacock's tail, on which Mohammed rode to the seventh heaven, 6. Marblehead. Then a small fishing village a few miles north of Boston,

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