Roger Williams was standing one evening on the bank of the river, or rather, arm of the sea, called Seacock, near the spot where he had first landed, and to which he had given the name of ‘What Cheer?’ He was examining the landing-place, and contriving some means of turning it into a sort of harbor for canoes that belonged to the settlers in his new village, when his attention was attracted to the other side of the river, by hearing his own name loudly called by native voices.  He looked to the spot, and saw two Indians plunge into the water, and swim rapidly towards him:  and, as they did so, he also observed two other figures emerge from a grove of trees that reached nearly to the eastern brink of the inlet.

The distance was considerable, but Roger’s keen eye could discern that one of them was a female form; and, as they approached nearer to the water’s edge, and the rays of the evening sun fell brightly upon them, he also saw that the arms of that graceful and familiar form carried an infant.

‘Surely it is an illusion!’ he exclaimed.  I have so long pictured to my mind that blessed sight, that at length my fancy seems realized.  It cannot be!’

But again his name was called—­not now with an Indian accent, but in the manly English tones of Edward Winslow ‘Bring down a canoe, Roger!’ he shouted across the Water.  ’Edith and your child cannot swim this, arm of the sea.’

It was then true!  Edith—­his beloved wife—­was there and only that narrow inlet divided them!  The Indians had sprung to the shore, and were waiting his directions, to go in search of a canoe; but for a few moments he did not regard them, so riveted were his eyes, and all his senses, on the opposite shore.  But now he remembered that only by means of a boat could he attain that shore; and making a signal of wild joy and welcome to Edith, he hurried up the creek with the Indians, and rapidly unloosed the moorings of his canoe, which lay securely behind a projecting rock.  He leaped into it, leaving the natives on the shore, and paddled the canoe swiftly down the creek, to the spot where Edith stood waiting to receive him, trembling with agitation and joy.

When the first burst of emotion, at this, long-desired meeting with his wife and hitherto unknown child, had subsided, Roger warmly welcomed the friend who had so kindly protected them during their long journey, and brought them to the wild spot that was now his only home.  He then led them to the canoe, and, with Winslow’s assistance, soon rowed them to the other side, and conducted them to his, infant settlement.

The huts were indeed erected, and covered in with shingle roofs; but their appearance promised little of outward comfort to Edith.  Yet an inward joy and satisfaction were now permitted to her, which, at one time, she had never hoped to enjoy again on earth; and all externals were as nothing when compared with this.  Nevertheless, she exerted herself with all a woman’s taste and skill to arrange the simple furniture of the hut, and even to add a something of decoration; and both her husband and Winslow wondered at the improvement which she soon effected in the appearance of the dwelling, and the ingenuity with which she converted the rudest materials into articles of use or ornament.