Meanwhile, the colony of Massachusetts, which had been founded in the year 1624, increased rapidly. It was first planted at Nantasket, a deserted village of the Indians, at the entrance of the Bay of Massachusetts, where the Plymouth settlers had previously erected a few houses, for the convenience of carrying on their trade with the neighboring tribes. Another settlement had been formed, two years later, at Naumkeak, a tongue of land of remarkable fertility, where also a deserted Indian village was found, which formed the commencement of the town afterwards called Salem; and which had become—at the period we have now arrived at in our story—a place of some importance. It was founded by a man of much zeal end enthusiasm, of the name of Endicott; who was one of the original possessors of the patent granted to several gentlemen of Dorsetshire, for the land in Massachusetts Bay, extending from the Merrimak to the Charles River, from north to south; but stretching to an indefinite distance westward, even over the unexplored regions between the boisterous Atlantic, and the Silent Sea, as the Pacific has been very aptly and beautifully designated.

Endicott had been invested, by the society to which he belonged in England, with the government of the whole district of Massachusetts; and he soon found himself called on to exercise his authority for the suppression of the disturbances excited by the settlers of Quincy. This place was inhabited by a set of low and immoral men, one of whom, named Thomas Morton, had come over in the wild and dissolute train sent out by Weston several years previously. He was a man of some talent, but of very contemptible character: and had attached himself to the retinue of Captain Wollaston and his companions, who first settled at Quincy, and gave it the name of Mount Wollaston. He afterwards, with his friends, removed to Virginia, leaving some of his servants and an overseer to manage the plantation during his absence. But, no sooner was Morton relieved of the presence of those who had hitherto kept him in some restraint, than he roused the servants to a complete mutiny, which ended in their driving the overseer from the plantation, and indulging in every kind of excess. They even had the boldness and the dishonesty to sell the land which had been left in their charge by the lawful possessors, to the Indians; and to obtain fresh estates, which they claimed as their own. And, having thus established a sort of lawless independence, they passed their time in drinking and wild revelry. On the first of May, they erected a may-pole, in old-English fashion; but, not contented with celebrating that day of spring-time and flowers with innocent pastimes, they hung the pole with verses of an immoral and impious character, and, inviting the ignorant heathen to share in their festivities, they abandoned themselves to drunkenness and profligacy.

The horror and indignation of the severe Puritans of New Plymouth at this outbreak of licentiousness, was great indeed. In their eyes almost every amusement was looked upon as a sin; and the most innocent village dance round a maypole was regarded as nearly allied to the heathenish games in honor of the Goddess Flora. The conduct, therefore, of the disorderly settlers of Quincy filled them with shame and grief; and they felt humbled, as well as indignant, when they reflected on the discredit which such proceedings must necessarily bring on the Christian profession, and the British name. Nor was this all: it was not merely discredit that they had to fear. The insane and profligate conduct of Morton threatened to bring on them eventually, as well as on all the emigrants, evils of a more personal kind. For, when Morton and his wild associates found their means of self-gratification again running short, they had the folly to part with arms and ammunition to the Indians, and to teach them how to use them; thus giving them the power of not only resisting the authority of the English, but also of effectually attacking them whenever any subjects of dispute should arise between them and the pale-faced invaders.

Most joyfully the natives took advantage of this impolitic weakness; and so eagerly did they purchase the coveted firearms of their rivals, that Morton sent to England for a fresh supply of the dangerous merchandise. Such conduct was quite sufficient to arouse the fears and the vigilance of every other colony of New England; and the chief inhabitants of the various plantations agreed to request the interference of their brethren of New Plymouth, as being the oldest and most powerful settlement, in order to bring the offenders to their senses. Bradford willingly listened to their petition; for he desired nothing more earnestly than to have an opportunity of openly manifesting to his countrymen, and to the Indians, how greatly opposed he and his people were to the proceedings of Morton's gang. He had also a very sufficient pretext for such interference, as he could bring forward the positive command of his sovereign, that no arms of any kind should be given or sold to the natives.

He resolved, however, before he had recourse to harsher measures, to try and bring Morton and his wild crew to a better mode of life, by friendly and persuasive messages. But these only excited the contempt and derision of the ruffian; and the doughty warrior, Miles Standish, was therefore dispatched, with a band of his veteran followers, to seize on the desperadoes. They came upon them when they were in the midst of their drunken revelry, and, after a fierce struggle, succeeded in making them all prisoners, and conveying them safely to Plymouth. From thence Morton was sent, by the first opportunity, to England, to be tried by the High Council, who, however, did not take any active measures against him or his followers. Many of the latter escaped, and continued their disorderly life, until they were checked by the vigorous proceedings of Endicott, who severely reprimanded them, and cut down the may-pole which had given rise to so much offence, and he named the hill on which the notorious plantation was situated, 'Mount Dagon,' in memory of the profane doings of its inhabitants.

The coast of Massachusetts Bay was now studded with plantations, and with rising towns and villages. The stream of emigration continued to increase; and the wealth and prosperity of the colonies in general kept pace with the addition to their numbers, and with their extended trade with foreign colonies and with the mother-country. Boston had become a place of some note, and seemed to be regarded as the seat of commerce for the Massachusetts district, as well as the center of the civil government. Most of the families of the neighboring plantations, especially of Charlestown, removed to Boston; and ere long it was deemed expedient to found a regular church there, and the building of a house of God was commenced. Winthrop, the governor, also exerted himself in the erection of a fortress, to repel the dreaded attacks of the Indians; but he soon perceived that this was a needless precaution, for all the neighboring tribes readily offered their friendship, and even their submission; and, as the strength of the colony daily increased, he found that he had less and less to fear from the Indians. The Sagamore of Sawgus, in the vicinity of Boston, remained the steady friend of the English until his death; and Chickatabot, Sachem of Neponset, one of the neighboring Chiefs of the Massachusetts, frequently visited the rising town of Boston. On one of these occasions he excited the mirth of the Governor and his suite, by requesting to be allowed to purchase his fall-dress coat, to which he had taken a great fancy.

To this strange and original request, the Governor courteously replied that it was not the custom of the English Sagamores to dispose of their raiment in that manner; but he consoled the disappointed Chieftain by sending for his tailor, and ordering him to measure Chickatabot for a full suit. This treasure the Sachem carried away with him three days afterwards, to astonish the eyes of his subjects in his native wilds; and his loyalty towards the English was greatly strengthened by so handsome and judicious a present.

Cundincus, also, the Chief of the powerful and much dreaded Narragansetts, sent his son with a friendly greeting to the new settlers of Boston; and, in the following year, his nephew and co-ruler, Miantonomo, came on a visit to the Governor. He was for some days an inmate of Winthrop's house; and it is recorded that he not only conducted himself with the greatest decorum, but that be also sat patiently to listen to a sermon of an hour and a half's duration, of which, of course, he scarcely comprehended one word.

Governor Winthrop followed the good example that had already been set by both Carver and Bradford at New Plymouth, in regard to all dealings with the natives. He always maintained their rights with the most strict and impartial justice; and if any Englishman committed an injury against the property of an Indian, he compelled him to replace it—in some cases even to twice the value of the article in question.

The new settlers had always been on very friendly terms with the elder colony of Plymouth; and visits were frequently exchanged between the Governors and others of the inhabitants, which, though performed with much difficulty and even danger, were a source of mutual pleasure to the two bands of British emigrants. If the men of Plymouth regarded with some feeling of jealous anxiety the growing power and greatness of their rival, it was but natural. Nevertheless, no differences of any importance arose between the colonies on the subject of civil superiority. It was on spiritual matters that they sometimes disagreed; and on these points the Plymouthers watched the newcomers with suspicious sensitiveness, and resolved to maintain their dearly- purchased based rights to religious freedom, against any pretensions that might be made by the church of Boston.