the man who couldst not abide the rule even of thine own corrupted
Church, and hast come hither to preach iniquity and to give example of
it in thy life. But now shall it be seen that the Lord hath sanctified
this wilderness for his peculiar people. Woe unto them that would
defile it! And first for this flower-decked abomination, the altar of
thy worship!"

[Footnote 1: Did Governor Endicott speak less positively, we should
suspect a mistake here. The Rev. Mr. Blackstone, though an eccentric,
is not known to have been an immoral man. We rather doubt his identity
with the priest of Merry Mount.]

And with his keen sword Endicott assaulted the hallowed Maypole. Nor
long did it resist his arm. It groaned with a dismal sound, it
showered leaves and rosebuds upon the remorseless enthusiast, and
finally, with all its green boughs and ribbons and flowers, symbolic
of departed pleasures, down fell the banner-staff of Merry Mount. As
it sank, tradition says, the evening sky grew darker and the woods
threw forth a more sombre shadow.

"There!" cried Endicott, looking triumphantly on his work; "there lies
the only Maypole in New England. The thought is strong within me that
by its fall is shadowed forth the fate of light and idle mirthmakers
amongst us and our posterity. Amen, saith John Endicott!"

"Amen!" echoed his followers.

But the votaries of the Maypole gave one groan for their idol. At the
sound the Puritan leader glanced at the crew of Comus, each a figure
of broad mirth, yet at this moment strangely expressive of sorrow and