h covered with fragrant flowers.

It was still an early hour, for the morning dew sparkled in the deeper
recesses of the grand old forest, and the moisture of dawn yet lingered
on the air. Strange as it may seem, that instrument was regarded with
careless indifference, even by the gentler sex of this period.

Meagre and cold was the sympathy which a transgressor might expect from
the assembly at the pond. The women mingled freely with the crowd and
appeared to take a peculiar interest in the punishment about to be
inflicted. The age had not so much refinement, that any sense of
impropriety kept the wearers of petticoats and farthingales from
elbowing their way through the densest throngs to witness the
executions. Those wives and maidens of English birth and breeding were
morally and materially of coarser fibre than their fair descendants, who
would swoon at the thought of torture and punishment. They were not all
hard-featured amazons in that throng, for, mingled with the stout,
broad-shouldered dames, were maids naturally shy, timid and beautiful.
The ruddy cheeks and ruby lips indicated health, and the brawny arms of
many women bore evidence of physical toil.

The cavaliers were jesting and laughing, while the Puritans were silent,
or conversing in low, measured tones on the purpose of the assembly.

There was enough of gloom and solemnity in the one party to prove that
the execution was not to be a farce, and enough merriment in the other
to convince a beholder that the punishment was not capital. A young
cavalier, all silk and lace, with heavy riding-boots, galloped up to the
scene and, dismounting, handed the rein to a negro slave, who had run
himself out of breath to keep up with his master, and hastened down to
the water.

"Good morrow, Roger!" said the new-comer to a young man of about
twenty-five years of age, like himself a gentleman of ease.

"Good morrow, Hugh," Roger answered.

"What gala scene have they prepared for our amusement?" asked Hugh, his
dark gray eyes twinkling with merriment. "I trow it is one that you and
I need never fear."

"The magistrates have adjudged Ann Linkon to be ducked."

"Marry! what hath she done?"

"Divers offences, all petty, but aggravating in themselves. She is not
only a common scold, but a babbling woman, who often hath slandered and
scandalized her neighbors, for which her poor husband is often brought
into chargeable and vexatious suits and cast in great damage