The blossoms of the lindens fell over the grey wall enclosing the old cloister wherein the veiled nuns had walked, fell over into another garden and around other women of whom the cloistered nuns had never heard, and to whom they were but a name; lives in deepest contrast, lived in neighboring environment yet divided by a grey stone wall and many years.
At a well by the old wall several young women have gathered, some to get water for their household use, others to meet them there for a gossip—for even in the little colony of English Separatists living so quietly on their own ground, itself almost a cloister, in the gay city of Leyden there was, of course, gossip in its friendly and sociable meaning. But chat between the women only is interrupted, and apparently to their amusement, by small boys and girls all eagerness at a tale one of their number is telling of an exciting event in their school life that day; no less than the story of how the Prince’s ball fell into the canal and he took the boat hook belonging to an old woman who lived near, never thinking she would object, and fished the ball safely out. A tale with an apparently happy ending, but not so, the old woman mistaking Prince Frederick for just an everyday boy scolded him well, and when some one called out that it was the Prince who had borrowed her boat hook, she was so overcome and frightened that she ran in her house and they could not coax her out, for she said they would take her to prison.
Smiles fade as a shadow of remembrance crosses the minds of some of the listeners at prison experiences they have known, and perhaps a thought of contrast that here, in this democratic land, their children have as playmate a prince of the blood, while in their own country they might scarcely ever have seen one. A few of the young men have wandered towards the well, since evening is advancing and their day’s employments are over; here are Edward Southworth, William Bradford, Robert Cushman, William White,—and, severally, Alice Carpenter, Mary Singleton and Anna Fuller may no longer be monopolized by the children, while Patience Brewster is glad to hear of her friend in Amsterdam, Dorothy May, from William Bradford, who visits Elder May rather frequently.
In fact, news from Amsterdam was quite regularly brought by visitors as well as by those of their own company returning, since seeds of romance sown in the early days of their sojourn were bearing fruit, and engagements were so frequent that one was scarcely talked of before another came up for consideration.
Thus it was not surprising to see Samuel Fuller leaning across the half door of the Carpenter’s cottage, while Agnes, presumably waiting for Alice to return from the well, on the other side of the door, smiled at him. Not unlikely that Edward Southworth and the doctor will both be asked to supper, for the Carpenter household, with five gay, pretty girls in it was not a dull one. One of the households soonest to break away, however, from the present surroundings; after three of his daughters married, Alexander Carpenter moved the rest of his family to his old home in England. Anna Fuller noticing her brother’s absorption and knowing from rather frequent experience that he may forget about the supper she will provide for him, decides on spending the evening away from home, herself. To her neighbor and special friend, Mary Allerton, she will be a gladly welcomed guest—she who, a year ago was Mary Norris, and for whom Anna had been a witness at her marriage to Isaac Allerton. Sarah, Isaac’s sister, who lived with them, was good company also, and if Degory Priest should happen by, as was more than likely, to walk with Sarah to the weekly lecture at Pastor Robinson’s and if William White should come too, still less unlikely, she would tell him that—“yes she would marry him, when Samuel married Agnes Carpenter and was off her hands and mind.”
In this group of pilgrims there were many young men and girls, therefore many were the love tales told under the lindens and marriages frequent during their sojourn.
The Botanical Gardens at Leyden, one of the city’s proud possessions, must have held the usual charm for walks of sweethearts and wives and the men of their choice on a Sunday afternoon that seems to be evident everywhere there are Gardens, in any era and place, from Edinburgh to Hong Kong.
The annual Kermiss also witnessed many visitors from among these strangers, and the other holidays and sports came in time to be almost as familiar and enjoyable as though known in their own country.
Good health and fairly comfortable living made comparatively light hearts, among the younger set especially.