Drive his new Flying Stage-coach, four in hand, Down the long lane, and out into the land, And knew that he was far upon the way To Ipswich and to Boston on the Bay! Just then the meditations of the Earl A thin slip of a girl, like a new moon, A pail of water, dripping, through the street, And bathing, as she went, her naked feet. It was a pretty picture, full of grace, The slender form, the delicate, thin face; And all these years had Martha Hilton | And then the feast went on, as others do, But ended as none other I e'er knew. served Can this be Martha Hilton? It must be! Yes, Martha Hilton, and no other she! Dowered with the beauty of her twenty years, How ladylike, how queenlike she appears; The pale, thin crescent of the days gone by Is Dian now in all her majesty ! Yet scarce a guest perceived that she was there, Until the Governor, rising from his chair, Played slightly with his ruffles, then looked down, And said unto the Reverend Arthur Brown: "This is my birthday it shall likewise He sat beside the Governor and said The rector read the service loud and |