version
which we use in the colonies of New England, so much exceed all other
versions, that, by its richness, its exactness, and its spiritual
simplicity, it approacheth, as near as may be, to the great work of the
inspired writer. I never abide in any place, sleeping or waking, without
an example of this gifted work. 'Tis the six-and-twentieth edition,
promulgated at Boston, Anno Domini 1744; and is entitled, _The Psalms,
Hymns, and Spiritual Songs of the Old and New Testaments; faithfully
translated into English Metre, for the Use, Edification, and Comfort of
the Saints, in Public and Private, especially in New England_."

During this eulogium on the rare production of his native poets, the
stranger had drawn the book from his pocket, and, fitting a pair of
iron-rimmed spectacles to his nose, opened the volume with a care and
veneration suited to its sacred purposes. Then, without circumlocution
or apology, first pronouncing the word "Standish," and placing the
unknown engine, already described, to his mouth, from which he drew a
high, shrill sound, that was followed by an octave below, from his own
voice, he commenced singing the following words, in full, sweet, and
melodious tones, that set the music, the poetry, and even the uneasy
motion of his ill-trained beast at defiance:--

"How good it is, O see,
And how it pleaseth well,
Together, e'en in unity,
For brethren so to dwell.
It's like the choice ointment,
From the head to the beard did go:
Down Aaron's beard, that downward went,
His garment's skirts unto."

The delivery of these skilful rhymes was accompanied, on the part of the
stranger, by a regular rise and fall of his right hand, which
terminated at the descent, by suffering the fingers to dwell a moment on
the leaves of the little volume; and on the ascent, by such a flourish
of the member as none but the initiated may ever hope to imitate. It
would seem that long practice had rendered this manual accompaniment
necessary; for it did not cease until the preposition which the poet had
selected for the close of his verse, had been duly delivered like a word
of two syllables.

Such an innovation on the silence and retirement of the forest could not
fail to enlist the ears of those who journeyed at so short a distance in
advance. The Indian muttered a few words in broken English to Heyward,
who, in his turn, spoke to the stranger; at once interrupting, and, for
the time, closing