| Stories of the Pilgrims|
|by Margaret B. Pumphrey|
|Beginning with Queen Anne's visit to Scrooby inn, tells in story form of the everyday life of the Pilgrims in England and Holland, of their voyage on the Mayflower and their adventures in the New World. The Brewster children and other Pilgrim boys and girls are the center of interest. A wonderful book to read aloud in the weeks before Thanksgiving. Ages 6-10 |
THE FIRST WINTER IN PLYMOUTH
HE Pilgrims could hardly wait until morning to begin the
town. It was scarcely daylight when they loaded their axes,
guns, saws, and hammers on the boat and rowed to shore.
"First we will build a large log house at the foot of the
hill," said Governor Carver. "It will be strong and safe,
and we can all live there while we are building our own
While some measured the space for the common-house, others
went to the forest to cut trees. You could hear their axes
ring from morning till night. They had no horses to help
them, and their hands must do all the work. So they dragged
and rolled the logs from the forest.
John Howland called Giles Hopkins, Francis and John
Billington, Love Brewster, and several others. "Come, boys,"
he said, "bring your sharp knives and we will go to the pond
and cut rushes to thatch the roof."
William Bradford saw them start, and he shouldered his gun
and went with them. If Indians should come, one man could
not protect so many children. When they came to the pond,
they cut the long rushes and tied them in bundles to carry
back to the men. Once they heard the wild yell of Indians,
and sometimes the howl of
 wolves in the forest, but they did not come near. It was
Christmas day when the first logs were cut and in three
weeks the common-house was finished. It was a rough
building, with its thatched roof and unplastered walls. The
windows were made of oiled paper instead of glass. But it
was their own, and the Pilgrims felt very happy when it was
They made a wide street from the shore to the top of the
hill. It was named for their old home in Holland and is
still called Leiden Street.
When the common-house was finished, the Pilgrims began to
build their little cottages on each side of Leiden Street.
There were nineteen families for which to provide. John
Alden was to live with Captain Standish and help him build
his house. Other men who were alone would live with those
who had families.
The winter grew colder and more bitter. There were many days
so stormy no work could be done on the houses. Food was
scarce, and every day some of the men tramped through the
deep snow in search of game. Often they returned nearly
frozen, and with empty game bags.
The Pilgrims were often wet and cold, and they did not have
proper food. Do you wonder that many of them became sick and
Rose Standish was the captain's young wife.
 Her sweet face and gentle, loving manner had made her very
dear to the Pilgrims. If any were homesick and lonely, Rose
seemed to know best how to cheer them. She was always
planning little comforts or pleasures for others.
But Rose was not so strong and well as the others. Miles
Standish sighed as he saw her grow more weak and pale every
day. "My poor little Rose!" he said. "You are too frail a
flower for this rough, wild life."
"I shall be better when I can leave the ship and breathe the
sweet, fresh air of the earth and woods," she said.
So, as soon as the common-house was finished, Miles Standish
gently lifted Rose into the smaller boat and took her to the
shore. He carried her in his strong arms to the new log
house and laid her upon a little cot.
The brave captain trembled with fear as he saw her flushed
face and held her fevered hand. He knew an enemy had come
which he could not conquer.
A few more days of suffering, and then Miles Standish was
Soon William Bradford became very ill, and then Goodman
White, Mistress Allerton, and many others. In the
common-house were long rows of white cots where lay
suffering men and women.
 At last there came a time when there were but seven well
enough to hunt for the food, care for the sick, and bury the
All day Priscilla moved quietly about, bathing fevered
faces, or with cool hand rubbing the pain from some aching
head. Or she bent over the coals of the fire making broth or
toast for the sick, or cooking for those who nursed them.
At night when only a dim candle lighted the room, Doctor
Fuller or Miles Standish went from bed to bed, giving a cool
drink to one, or turning a heated pillow for another. Often
a cup was placed in the hand of one of the weary nurses and
Priscilla would whisper, "Drink this hot broth. It will give
you strength to wait upon others."
If it were their white-haired elder who was on watch, she
would beg him to lie down and rest for an hour while she
took his place.
"No, no, Priscilla," he would say, "you can not work all day
and watch at night. Take your rest, child, you need it
Then she would go back to her bed, stopping to smooth a
pillow or speak a cheery word to some one too ill to sleep.
But even tender nursing could not bring health and life to
all. Every day there was a new grave to be made on Cole's
At last came a morning when Priscilla could not rise. She
was burning with fever and in her sleep
 talked of her old home in France. She thought she was a
little girl playing with baby Joseph. She could not even
know when, one by one, her mother, father, and brother were
laid under the snow on the hill.
The Pilgrims were afraid to have the Indians see so many
graves. Perhaps they would attack the town if they knew
there were so few of the white men left.
So late at night a little group of men carried their sad
burden up the hill. When the grave was filled, they covered
it over with snow that the Indians might not see it so
In a few weeks half of the little band of Pilgrims lay
buried on Cole's Hill.
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