p. "He heeds not nor understands what you
say."

"Papistical mummeries! Your croziers, your mitres, your mumbled
prayers from the mass-book! I hate them! Forty years long they
wandered in the wilderness, but they prevailed at last. Stay ye the
hands of our Moses! Be strong! Quit ye like men."

"His mind, even in its wanderings, doth remember Israel," said Dr.
Fuller.

"He hath, indeed," said Winthrop, "ever avouched himself a devoted
servant of our cause. Unhappy is it--"

He looked at the weeping wife, and left the sentence unfinished.

"Let him who is without sin cast the first stone," said good Mr.
Eliot.

"Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound!" exclaimed the dying
man.

"Dear husband," said Dame Spikeman, sobbing, and taking his hand,
"know you me?"

"What woman speaks?" said Spikeman. "It is the voice of
Prudence--sweet Pru--"

His wife let the hand fall, and covering her face with her
handkerchief, burst into a flood of tears. A severer spasm than any
before shook the Assistant's frame; a more copious gush of blood
poured from the wound; and in the effort to speak the name of the
girl, the spirit passed to its account.

"Strange," said pure-minded Mr. Eliot, "that he should utter the name
of the serving-maid."

A look of intelligence passed between the Governor and the physician,
but neither spoke.

"He is silent," said the divine; "he is stiller, and feels less pain."

"He will never feel pain again in this world," said the doctor,
approaching the bed, at a little distance from which he had been
sitting, and gazing on the corpse.

Dame Spikeman screamed, and was borne, fainting, from the apartment in
the arms of Eveline and Prudence, who hastened in at the sound.

"Behold," said Mr. Eliot, who, after the manner of clergymen, was
anxious to "improve the solemn occasion," "another warning addressed
to us all, to be ready, for we know not neither the day nor the hour.
How suddenly hath our friend been forever removed from the scene of
his labors and his hopes. 'As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth
away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more; he
shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him
any more.' But, though the spirit be gone, its memory remains behind.
Out of the good and the evil it hath done, shall be erected its
monument on earth. O, let us hope that the former, sprinkled and
cleansed by the blood that maketh all things pure, may be