on the corrupt head of Lord Bacon, who was
the principal villain in the final destruction of the great navigator,
warrior and philosopher.

I listened to the great Raleigh on the 29th of October, 1618, standing by
the block, addressing the executioner and the multitude, when handling the
shining axe: "This is a sharp medicine, but a sound cure for all diseases!"
Lying down and fitting himself to the block, the executioner asked him to
alter the position of his head, when he replied: "It is no matter which way
the head lies, so the heart be right! Why dost thou not strike? Strike,
man!" And, then, quick as a flash the glittering axe split the head from
the shoulders of one of the noblest men of England.

I turned away from the gloomy precincts of the terrible Tower, and cursed
the falsehood and iniquity of Elizabeth, James and Lord Bacon, jealous
plotters against growing, illustrious men.

Raleigh in his poem "The Soul's Errand," pictures thus this lying world:

_"Go, soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless arrant;
Fear not to touch the best,
The truth shall be thy warrant;
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie!_

_"Go, tell the court it glows
And shines like rotten wood;
Go tell the church it shows
What's good, and doth no good.
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie!_

_"Tell men of high condition
That manage home and state,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate;
And if they once reply
Then give them all the lie!"_

Disgusted with the growing cruelties of monarchy and state "reformers," I
joined a band of Puritans who proposed to leave old Albion, and find in
North America a home and country where they could worship God in their own
way, and secure freedom for themselves and children for a thousand years to
come.

I stood on the prow of the Mayflower as the sun rose over the harbor of
Plymouth on the 17th of September, 1620, as the good ship sailed away from
England to the west, with one hundred and one passengers, filled with the
great spirit of religious and material liberty.

After a very stormy passage of sixty-three days, touching at Cape Cod, we
made final anchor at Plymouth Rock, on the evening of the 16th of December,
1620.

That rock-bound, stormy, snowy, forest coast, filled with fierce animals
and fiercer red men, gave the lonely emigrants a cold and terrible winter
rec