ook ye to it, brethren," resumed Endicott, with increasing energy.
"If this king and this arch-prelate have their will, we shall briefly
behold a cross on the spire of this tabernacle which we have builded,
and a high altar within its walls, with wax tapers burning round it at
noon-day. We shall hear the sacring-bell and the voices of the Romish
priests saying the mass. But think ye, Christian men, that these
abominations may be suffered without a sword drawn, without a shot
fired, without blood spilt--yea, on the very stairs of the pulpit? No!
Be ye strong of hand and stout of heart. Here we stand on our own
soil, which we have bought with our goods, which we have won with our
swords, which we have cleared with our axes, which we have tilled with
the sweat of our brows, which we have sanctified with our prayers to
the God that brought us hither! Who shall enslave us here? What have
we to do with this mitred prelate--with this crowned king? What have
we to do with England?"

Endicott gazed round at the excited countenances of the people, now
full of his own spirit, and then turned suddenly to the
standard-bearer, who stood close behind him.

"Officer, lower your banner," said he.

The officer obeyed, and, brandishing his sword, Endicott thrust it
through the cloth and with his left hand rent the red cross completely
out of the banner. He then waved the tattered ensign above his head.

"Sacrilegious wretch!" cried the high-churchman in the pillory, unable
longer to restrain himself; "thou hast rejected the symbol of our holy
religion."

"Treason! treason!" roared the royalist in the stocks. "He hath
defaced the king's banner!"

"Before God and man I will avouch the deed," answered Endicott.--"Beat
a flourish, drummer--shout, soldiers and people--in honor of the
ensign of New England. Neither pope nor tyrant hath part in it now."

With a cry of triumph the people gave their sanction to one of the
boldest exploits which our history records. And for ever honored be
the name of Endicott! We look back through the mist of ages, and
recognize in the rending of the red cross from New England's banner
the first omen of that deliverance which our fathers consummated after
the bones of the stern Puritan had lain more than a century in the
dust.

THE LILY'S QUEST.

AN APOLOGUE.

Two lovers once upon a time had planned a little summer-house in the
form of an antique temple which it was their purpose to consecrate