hotel_ of Cardinal Fesch with his two turbots, or luckless
Vatel who fell upon his sword and died because he had no turbot at all;
or even, rising in the grandeur of the comparison, we may liken her to
Domitian, who, weary of persecuting Christians, one day called the Roman
Senate together to decide with him upon the sauce with which another
historic turbot should be dressed.

Some late arrivals among the Indians had that morning brought in several
large baskets of the delicious oysters for which Wareham is still
famous, and although it was an unfamiliar delicacy to her, Priscilla,
remembering a tradition brought from Ostend to Leyden by some travelers,
compounded these with biscuit-crumbs, spices, and wine, and was looking
about for an iron pan wherein to bake them, when Elizabeth Tilley
brought forward some great clam and scallop shells which John Howland
had presented to her, just as now a young man might offer a unique
Sevres tea-set to the lady of his love.

"Wouldn't it do to fill these with thy oyster compote, and so set them
in the ashes to roast?" inquired she. "Being many they can be laid at
every man's place at table."

"Why, 't is a noble idea, child," exclaimed Priscilla eagerly. "'T will
be a novelty, and will set off the board famously. Say you not so,
John?"

"Ay," returned Alden, who was busily opening the oysters at her side.
"And more by token there is a magnificence in the idea that thou hast
not thought on; for as at a great man's table the silver dishes each
bear the crest of his arms, so we being Pilgrims and thus privileged to
wear the scallop shell in our hats, do rather choose to display it upon
our board."

"Ah, John, thou hast an excellent wit--in _some_ things," replied
Priscilla with a half sigh which set the young fellow wondering for an
hour.

By noon the long tables were spread, and still the sweet warm air of the
"Indian Summer" made the out-of-door feast not only possible but
charming, for the gauzy veil upon the distant forest, and the marine
horizon, and the curves of Captain's Hill, seemed to shut in this little
scene from all the world of turmoil and danger and fatigue, while the
thick yellow sunshine filtered through with just warmth enough for
comfort, and the sighing southerly breeze brought wafts of perfume from
the forest, and bore away, as it wandered northward, the peals of
laughter, the merry yet discreet songs, and the multitudinous hum of
blithe voices, Saxon and