Litchfield enquirer., 1881-03-10
!. WHOLE NO. 291O

to give them so much pains, Ewhen this cold, bitter sea washing past my cabin window would bury me in moment-a little mo- ment.
 An, God forgive me what wild and wicked thoughts are these. Away away Get thee
 behind me, Sathanas Last night dreamed that my mother came to me with my baby dead in her arms-my baby, my one child. An child, you never loved another better than me, and yet left you-for him. When l awoke startled from my dream, he started Tn his sleep, and murmured: "Alice Sweet est, dearestp
 That was all, for laid my hand upon his lips, and he kissed it, and so slept again. An,
 he did not know it was my hand he kissed, or did he still dream They do not dream when they are dead, think. 1 hope not, surely, for would not be haunted with that dead ba- by, nor yet with hls father, whispering in his sleep: "Alice, sweetest, dearesti" Dec. Well, they did not pitch upon that spot where we lay when last wrote, and now
 we are moved farther into great bay or gulf,
 and lie again at anchor, while the men, with ! Master Bradford among them, are away ex- ploring anew. They found before some bas- kets with corn in them, and some signs of rude cabins where it is supposed the salvages or
 lndyins lived, though now they are gone. But It is weary work noting these things down. and in sooth I have small heart for even think ing of them. Last night dreamed again of
 my baby, and he wore wings and stretched bis little arms to me. 1 would knew if he be indeed if1 heaven. l wonder if I could win there if took my life in mine own hand, and and so went begging entrance. William speaks no more of Alice, either waking or
 sleeping, and in good sooth he speaks but lit-
 tie to me i'll any fashion. One might think he
 was afraid of me, he shrinks 80 from my pres- ence, and yet 1 never reproach him, oh, never, never How could 1, when my whole heart
 has wasted itself in vain love and longing to- ward him2 Yes, think that is why must die; my life has wasted itself like a little brook once saw at home that came leaping
 down from the hillside, and falling upon
 sandy plain was swallowed up, and perished,
 in spite of all it's struggles. Poor brook
 Poor Dorothy I wonder will he be sorry when
 l am dead! An, how the cold bitter sea runs
 past these windows will up to the deck, and climb over in the chains as did yester-
 day, and look down at the water. Perchance God forgive me, God forgive me the awful
 thought, and yet
 That is the last, the very last, of the worn
 and faded manuscript. Join 1t to what fol- lows. l In the Journal of William Bradford after long and minute account of the perils and ad-
 ventures of the exploring party who finally
 selected the site of the present town of Ply
 mouth, Massachusetts, as their point of de-
 barkation, occurs the brief statement that, up- on their return to the ship, it was discovered
 that Dorothy Bradford had fallen overheard
 and drowned.
 Only that.
 ! VL.-w1LLIAM BRADFORD AND ALICE ... soUTHwoRTH
 Almost two years later Mistress Southworth,
 fatherless as well as husbandless, received
 letter of which but one torn fragment remains. Let us add it to our story
 God he knows, l never wished her death, or
 failed ln the dismal effort to feign love
 never felt. How ill succeeded you shall see,
 for send you certain writings in the fashion | of Diary, discovered in one of her coffers 1 some time after her most untimely end No | eyes but mine have seen them.
 And now, Mistress Southworth, nay 1 will | say as have said many fair time before | new, sweet Alice ask you again, as asked | you long since, and think you will remember, l as do, the fair, well-ordered garden, with its bourgeon of bloom and it's rich scents of fruit and flowers, and the humming of the bees | about the ripening plums ask you once again the question that 1 asked you then and | there and once again beg for such answer as
 truthful woman should give to honest wooer- will you have me to your husband? And yet, Alice, as 1 write, the scales fall from mine eyes, and see as have not before that am | asking far more of you now than 1 asked then. have been the husband of one woman my worldly estate is mean and impoverished, not | withstanding the title of Governor which my brothers and co-workers here have bestowed | upon me since the death of the poble Carver;
 and the life which ask you to share is one of
 labor and elf.forgetfulness
 But yet, Alice. dare to ask you for with l in my own heart carry an assurance of such
 undying love and respect toward you, that it l seems to outvalue all other things, and if it | were possible that you could find in your own
 breast similar assurance, think, Mistress
 that not your garden, whose bloom and scent lie so fairly in my memory, were sweeter | abode than these rugged rocks and melan-
 choly forests, 80 we two might be together. In conclusion must say thaC although
 have discoursed at large upon this matter to
 you, and although much pains and many qualms of doubt have gone to the composition | of thlS letter, find by reviewing it that have
 said nothing of what IS in my heart, and have
 worded my petitions SO coldly and so awk-
 wardy that hardly dare hope you will ap-
 prove them but yet, Alice, remember me of
 time long since when thought-yet let that
 pass, and believe that whether you say me yea. shall ever be while life endures, Your faithful friend and humble servitor, . WILLIAM BRADFORD. Stitched to this fragment of letter is an- other, 8 mere scrap written in the cramped,
 delicate, and almost lllegible hand of wo-
 man, and superscribed.
 To the Wonderfu1 Gopernor of Me Plymouth CoIOny tn Massachusetts Bay, Nese.; FAIR SIR.-You do remember my fathers garden with it's roses and it's wall fruit SO we'll that marvel you should have forgotten the
 last words ever spoken to you in that garden
 by me, Or rather, the marvel is that should remember them myself and yet dc told
 you then Master Bradford, nay pardon me-
 would have writ, Right Worshipful Cover
 nor Bradford-I told you then, that it should
 be long day and very long day before you
 should see Alice Carpenter following you to London and offering herself to you for wife; and now you ask me to come, not to London
 but across seas to the strange New World where you abide, and all with the self-same
 purpose. Truly, Sir, marvel at your hard-
 hood, and against marvel more at my own
 sudden lowliness of heart which does not re- sent as l would have it this arrogance of
 yours. Wait until summon Pride, and ask her counsel. "Give him the old answer," quoth she, and mo- Sir you have my reply. Yet softly, here speaks another voice; me- thinks it is that of Common Sense. 'How
 fared it with yourself after you gave him that scof1ng answer five years ago?" And again
 Mind, you, the long day that you promised him has passed and it is not Alice Carpenter
 who goes to seek him but Alice Southworth" So sit, listening to my councillors, uncer- tain which to credit as the true one, and SO, unable to determine the bent of my own mind, close these lines and remain, fair Sir, your good wisher and old friend ami
 ALICE CARPENTER SoUTHwoRTH.
 Post Scriptum. Il, omitted to mention in the body of'my letter that I am resolved up- on immigration, and have taken passage in the ship Anne, bound from Southampton to your Colony, for myself, my two children. and my sister Mary, whom you will perhaps re- member, and perhaps also may elect to the place in your affections once held by my up-