Spoil of past joys; then, like a new-made bride,
She blushed in shame, and that first blush has lent
The rose its color over all our land.
HELEN LEE.
A ROMANCE OF OLD MARYLAND.
“I maintain it is a glory for the Catholics of Maryland that, in this age of religious strife, our colony has been made a home for the persecuted, and that we are the first to proclaim the equal rights of all who profess to be Christians.”
These words were spoken by a young man named William Berkeley, who formed one of a group of five persons seated under the shade of an oak-tree one summer afternoon in the year 1636. His companions were Sir Charles Evelyn, who was of about his own age; an old gentleman, Sir Henry Lee; his daughter, a maiden of three-and-twenty; and, lastly, a way-worn traveller, whose sad, wan face and unkempt locks told that he had suffered much and been long in reaching a place of safety and repose.
“Yea, Mr. Berkeley, this colony hath set a glorious example,” answered the last-mentioned individual. “And I wish my worthy friend Roger Williams had accompanied me hither, instead of halting where he did on Narraganset Bay; for he hath a rigorous climate to contend with. Oh! how cold it was last winter, how bitter cold, as we journeyed through the wilderness. And, moreover, the Puritans of Massachusetts, not content with having exiled him once for his religious opinions, may claim jurisdiction over the haven where he is now resting, and drive him still further away.”
“Well, ours is indeed a charming country,” spoke Helen Lee. “It is now two years since we landed from the Ark and the Dove, and we have all enjoyed uninterrupted good health, while our numbers, which at first were only two hundred, are now much increased. Oh! St. Mary’s is a blessed spot.”
“And we shall very soon have our church finished,” observed the young baronet, who sat between Helen and her father. “The big wigwam which the Indians kindly gave us wherein to celebrate holy Mass is become a great deal too small and many are obliged to kneel outside.”
After a little further conversation, and after again praising the climate and people of Maryland, Roger Williams’ friend arose; then, having thanked Sir Henry for his hospitality—the latter had entertained him at dinner—he silently waved his hand to the others and bent his steps towards the town.