Upon the broad bank of the old South
Shore they sat,--a favorite resort of the youth and maidens of this
little island of a mid-summer's eve,--old Sankoty to the eastward,
lifting high his head, imparting a flood of radiance in pity to
thousands, who watch with an intensity, to make the well-known light,
rejoicing no less when they have left it far behind, for well do they
realize that they have passed one of the most dangerous shoals to be
found on the American coast. Behind them, distance about three miles, is
the town; there is no din and bustle borne on the night air to their
ears,--naught is heard but the moaning voice of the night wind, mingled
with the ceaseless roar of the ocean. Here, far from the world's
contumely, no eye to see, no ear to hear, save that of Him who is
omnipresent, were those vows of love renewed, and registered above. Many
a fair maiden has here since plighted her faith, here given her hand to
the loved one of her choice, (heaven bless the union of Nantucket's fair
ones!) yet the night has never since looked down upon two of more
perfect oneness of heart, than those of whom this serene night
bore witness.
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