• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Frontispiece
 Two babies of long ago
 The first washing day
 The landing of the pilgrims
 The babies first winter in the...
 Visitors in the homes of the pilgrim...
 The first Thanksgiving day
 Two little Plymouth colony...
 Other colonies
 Massachusetts bay colony
 Colonial schools
 Colonial children's Sabbath
 Indian troubles
 Lady Yeardley's visitor
 The boy captive
 How jack-o'-lantern frightened...
 Two brass kettles
 Mercy and Josh Cary
 A hundred years from the settl...
 The war of the revolution
 The cause of the war
 Revolutionary tea
 The children just before the...
 The Boston boys
 A daring girl
 Col. Allan and his boys
 A little hero
 Colonial days at an end
 Advertising
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: Stories of colonial children
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
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STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00082643/00001
 Material Information
Title: Stories of colonial children
Physical Description: 221, 3 p. : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Pratt-Chadwick, Mara L ( Mara Louise )
Educational Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Educational Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Boston ;
New York ;
Chicago ;
San Francisco
Publication Date: c1894
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
History -- Anecdotes -- Juvenile fiction -- United States -- Revolution, 1775-1783   ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile fiction -- United States -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1894   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1894   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre: Children's stories
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
United States -- California -- San Francisco
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Mara L. Pratt.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00082643
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002236226
notis - ALH6695
oclc - 05877993
lccn - 03032094

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 1a
    Front Matter
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Table of Contents
        Page 5
    Frontispiece
        Page 6
    Two babies of long ago
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    The first washing day
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    The landing of the pilgrims
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The babies first winter in the colony
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Visitors in the homes of the pilgrim babies
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
    The first Thanksgiving day
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    Two little Plymouth colony girls
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    Other colonies
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    Massachusetts bay colony
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    Colonial schools
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
    Colonial children's Sabbath
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    Indian troubles
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Lady Yeardley's visitor
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    The boy captive
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
    How jack-o'-lantern frightened away the Indians
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
    Two brass kettles
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
    Mercy and Josh Cary
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    A hundred years from the settlement
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
    The war of the revolution
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
    The cause of the war
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    Revolutionary tea
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
    The children just before the war
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
    The Boston boys
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
    A daring girl
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
    Col. Allan and his boys
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
    A little hero
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
    Colonial days at an end
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
    Advertising
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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STORIES


OF


COLONIAL


CHILDREN.


By MARA L. PRATT,
Author of American History Stories," Young Folk's Library
of American History," Etc.




EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
BOSTON
NEW YORK CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO






































COPYRIGHTED
By EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMP4-NV,

1894.













INDEX.
PAGE
Two Babies of Long Ago 7
First Washing Day 13
Landing of the Pilgrims 19
First Winter in the Colony 25
Visitors in the Homes 34
First Thanksgiving Day .43
Two little Colony Girls 5 1
Other Colonies 66
Massachusetts Bay Colony 72
Colonial Schools 77
Colonial Children's Sabbath 92
Indian Troubles 4
Lady Yeardley's Visitor 13
Boy Captive 2. 12
How Jack o' Lantern Frightened the Indians 129
Two Brass Kettles 134
Mercy and Josh Cary 140
Hundred Years from the Settlement 153
War of the Revolution 163
Cause of the War 170
Children Just Before the War .178
Boston Boys 18
A Daring Girl 189
Col. Allan and His Boys 195
A Little Hero 208
Colonial Days at an End 217
























IJC
I~ ic:JI;


NATIONAL MONUMENT TO THE IORE'FATHERS, E0 ECIED) AT ILYMOUTII MASS.











STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN,



TER- I::




TWO BABIES OF LONG AGO.
Those two little baby boys They were
very, very welcome; yes, indeed. Pray do not
think they were not. It was only that the
cabin of the odd little vessel, the Mayflower,
was so dark and cold and crowded.
There was not very much room; there
were no pretty little cradles, with soft white






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


blankets; nor were there any dainty little
baskets, with tiny combs and brushes, and
puffs and powders, all ready for the babies'
use.
But after all, what did it matter? There
were the loving mother arms, which are better
than cradles, if a baby can't have both; and
there were the proud and happy papas, each
one, of course, thinking his baby whole worlds
sweeter than any other baby ever born.
And then the aunts and the uncles those
two babies had! Every man and woman on
board the vessel declared themselves aunt and
uncle to these two wonderful new babies; and
so anxious were they all to help take care of
the little fellows and hold them on their laps,
that even had they had the cradles and soft
blankets, the babies would have had little time
to use them.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


How the sweet-faced, brown-eyed Priscilla
loved to sit whole hours, crooning softly
the quaint old hymn tunes-it was the fashion
in those days to sing-looking down into
the little baby faces all the while.
There was the bright-faced, gay-hearted
Mary Chilton. She would trot the babies on
her knee, pouring all the while such bright.
funny stories into their baby ears, that young
as they were, they would laugh back at her -
at least, so the aunts and uncles used to say.
"What shall we name these babies?"
asked the fathers and the mothers and the
aunts and the uncles.
Name them James," suggested one.
"What! cried the two fathers. Name
our babies James! Have you forgotten that
James is the name of the king of England?
And have you forgotten that we are escaping





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


from the injustice of that king towards us,
and the cruelty of the English people?
"Have you forgotten that this very ship
was built to bring us across this great ocean
to the New World, that we may be as far from
that king and his law as we can be? Have
you forgotten that it is he that has driven us
from dear old England, to seek freedom for
ourselves in this new country, that we have
never seen ?"
"No! No!" cried all the aunts and uncles.
"Certainly the babies cannot, be named after
the English king."
"But the babies must be named," said
one, soberly.
"Truly they must," said another.
But what shall it be? asked another.
At last, one day it came into the heads of
the fathers to give their babies names that





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


should forever keep in mind the fact of their
birth upon the ocean while their parents were
wandering about, driven hither and thither by
the wind and tide, in search of a new home.
I have been thinking," said Goodman
Hopkins, "that since my little son was born
out in mid ocean, I should like to name
him Ocean. Still, it sounds rather odd as a
name for a child."
"And I," said Goodman White, since
my little son was born almost in the very
harbor, and so near at the close of our
long wanderings, I should like to name him
Wandering; still, as you say, it is a very
strange name for a child."
"I think I can help you," said the
minister, who had come with his little flock
across the great, wide sea. "In the Latin I
have learned, there are words that mean Ocean





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


and Wandering, which will perhaps strike
more pleasantly upon your ear.. Those words
are Oceanus and Peregrine."
"Peregrine; Peregrine; Peregrine;" said
Goodman White, saying the word over and over,
that he might grow used to the sound of it.
Oceanus; Oceanus; Oceanus ;" echoed
Goodman Hopkins. Peregrine White,"
" Oceanus Hopkins," murmured the mothers,
the aunts and the uncles. The names were
a little unusual; but these people, as you will
learn by and by, were themselves unusual.
The names were rather heavy for little
babies; but "pet names" were not the fashion
two hundred years ago; and as to obey the
minister, even in his slightest wish, was the
fashion, it was settled at once that these little
wandering "water-babies" should be named
Peregrine and Oceanus.






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


THE FIRST WASHING DAY.
Did you ever wonder how it came about
that we in this country must do the family
washing on Monday,- always on Monday ?
There are countries in Europe where it is
the fashion to have, now and then, one great
" washing day "- but only a few times in the
year. In our country it is the fashion to have
a "washing day" once a week; and so, of
course, it is not a great day with us, coming,
as it does, so often.
These European people sometimes laugh
at us, and say that we are forever over the
wash tub." Well, perhaps we are. We won't
argue about that; but one thing is sure: we
come rightly enough by it. For what was the
very first thing, do you think, these Pilgrim





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


forefathers and foremothers of ours did when
they reached the shores of this continent ?
You see, the Mayflower had drifted into
Massachusetts Bay, and there it lay at anchor
just outside a little sheltered cove. The
Pilgrims, some of them, had gone ashore to
learn whether or not this was a suitable place
for landing. It. was a Monday morning.
Nobody has ever told us; but it seems there
came over the hearts of the good housekeeper
women of the little band, the old-fashioned
desire to tidy up."
"What a fine place to do our washing,
there in that little cove," said one good woman,
looking longingly out across the water towards
the shore.
Yes, yes! cried all the women. Not
a proper washing-day have we had in all these
long weeks."





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


"And there are Baby Peregrine's dresses!"
said Baby Peregrine's mother.
And Oceanus's blanket!" said Baby
Oceanus's mother.
"We will take them all with us," laughed
the other good women, who, having no babies,
were free to wash to their heart's content.
You are kind to do this for our babies,"
said the two mothers. "It seems almost
wrong that we should not do it ourselves."
"But the babies belong to us all,"
laughed Mary Chilton. We are all aunts to
the babies you know."
Well, to make a long story short, what do
you suppose these thrifty women did ? They
would rather have died than not to have been
clean-these Pilgrims.
So the washing" was gotten together,
the women were rowed to the shore, and there




















L


~1~11~1~i-;


---.~
;





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


in the cold, salty water of the bay, -this
Monday morning in the month of November
1620, these foremothers of our nation washed
and scrubbed in good English fashion. And
the forefathers helped too. They built fires;
they heated the water; and they helped to
hang the clothes upon the trees and spread
them out upon the snow.
It was not the way of these people to talk,
or to laugh very much, or to be very gay; but,
in their own quiet way, we have no doubt that
they had a most happy time of it.
It is very good to be clean," said one,
with a sigh of contentment, when the clothes
were all washed and dried.
Cleanliness is akin to godliness," said
another soberly, looking with satisfaction
upon the great heap of fresh clean clothes, as
they rowed back in their boat to the Mayflower.





18 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.

Do you think little boys, little girls, that
washing day isn't history ? Do you think
history is all battles ? 0, no; that wash-
ing-day is the very best of history. And why?
Listen: because it shows the spirit of the
times; and that is history always.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.
The Pilgrims had hoped to reach the
Hudson river; but the storms had been
severe, the currents were strong, and they
found themselves driven into Massachusetts
Bay. It was bitter cold; the bay was full of
ice; and the winds were sharp and cutting.
We had hoped to reach a shore farther
south," said William Brewster, the good
minister who, you remember, found the Latin
names for Oceanus and Peregrine; but all is
for the best, and we will dwell here where we
have been sent."
For some reason they did not find this
cove, in which they had built their fires and
washed, suitable for a landing place.
"Let us sail on a little farther, keeping





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


close to the shore," said one. And so it came
about that the Mayflower came at last into the
little bay known now as Plymouth Bay.
Let us land here," said one.
"And build our homes upon that sunny
slope of land," said another.
"Or on the brow of the hill," said a third.
"01r at the foot of the hill along the
shore," said a fourth.
It seems a pleasant place," said William
Brewster, simply.
The Mayflower dropped anchor. A few
days later the boat was lowered, and the
Pilgrims were carried to the shore. In the
first boat-load was Mary Chilton the gay,
merry-hearted Mary Chilton that the babies
loved so well.
The Pilgrims were a very sober, earnest
people; almost too sober and too earnest.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


They held it a sin to be gay. Even the
children and there were many on board the
Mayflower,- if they romped too hard or
laughed too loud, were sure to hear a solemn
" Hush!" from their elders.
But bright-eyed, light-hearted Mary Chil-
ton she would keep gay in spite of all.
How the children loved her! And the elders,
even when they reproved her, as they some-
times felt it their duty to do, could not but
feel kindly towards her. She was so hopeful,
and bright, and joyous.
And so it was Mary Chilton who, with a
laugh and a bound, sprang from the boat; the
first woman to step foot on the shore of the spot
the Pilgrims had chosen for their new home.
In another boat-load were the two babies,
looking like nothing but bundles of shawls,
held tight in the arms of their loving mothers.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHTLREN.


Precious bundles these babies were; at least so
the Pilgrims thought, as the little fellows
reached the shore, and were lifted out upon
the rock.
Back and forth the little boat plied
between the ship and the shore until the
whole company of one hundred and two were
landed. It was bitter' cold Dec. 22- and
the Pilgrims were not warmly clad.
But it is so good to be on land again!"
cried Mary Chilton, her eyes sparkling and
her red cheeks glowing.
"We shall soon build our own homes,"
said Miles Standish manfully; "and when
spring comes, we shall plant our fields and
forget all the troubles we have known in Old
England."
Let us thank God for His care, and
guidance into this haven of rest," said William





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


Brewster; and there, about the rock upon
which they had landed, these simple-hearted,
honest Pilgrims knelt and prayed. Then they
sang a grand old hymn of thanksgiving, in
which-would you believe it?-it is some-
where said that even Peregrine and Oceanus
joined their voices, sending up as loud a wail
as their two little throats could make. Poor
little babies! Very likely they were cold; for
indeed, it was bitter, bitter cold that snowy
morning of Dec. 22, 1620, when the Pilgrims
landed upon the shores of Plymouth Bay.






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


THE BABIES FIRST WINTER IN THE
COLONY.

A large, rough shed-fort had been built on
the hill; and in this the colonists must live
together until homes could be built for their
families.
My wife and my baby, Peregrine, must
have a home of their own," Goodman White
would say, as he took the little bundle of
clumsy shawls in his arms; for you remember
these babies had no dainty blankets and puffs
of eiderdown, as babies have to-day.
"And Oceanus, he, too, must have a
home," said Goodman Hopkins.
The colonists were all industrious, hard-
working, earnest men. There were no lazy
men or women among them. Even the






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


children- Humility Cooper, Desire Minter,
Remember Allerton, Love Brewster, and other
children with names just as queer, were sober,
earnest little creatures, ready always to help, as
well as they could, their mothers and their
fathers to build their homes. They were
as anxious about the little village as the
fathers and mothers themselves,- these old
little children.
The men went briskly to work, even on
the day they landed, to fell the trees and clear
the forests for their houses. The women set to
work cooking and washing, brewing and spin-
ning; the children helped; and you maybe sure
it was not long before the smoke curled up
from many a little chimney, and the little
rough houses were filled with happy families.
There was Goodman White's little rough
house, and not far from it the house of Good-





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


man Hopkins. The two babies grew older
and wiser every day.
Such a comfort as these two babies were
to the hard-working men and women. Busy
as they were, there was always time to look in
upon the babies; always time for a loving
word and a gentle push for the clumsy little
cradles they now slept in.
And when, after the homes had been
built, and the babies had been taken away by
their fathers and 'their mothers, it came to be
the most natural thing in the world for the
women to make very, very frequent calls at
the babies' homes. The men, too, coming
home from their work in the forests or in the
fields, often turned out of their way to look
in upon the babies, Peregrine and Oceanus.
It was well these sturdy, hard-working
men and women had these wee babies to love






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


and watch over. It kept their hearts open.
Sometimes grown-up people forget to be
gentle and tender in the busy rush of life if
there are no little folks to remind them.













forever after happy and prosperous. Certainly




they deserved to be; but the climate wasNIAL MOTHER AND BABY.
I wish I could tell you that these brave
people, now that they had found a home, were
forever after happy and prosperous. Certainly
they deserved to be; but the climate was






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


severe; the winter was hard and long; the
snow and ice so deep that hunting and fishing
were almost impossible.
The Pilgrims were not warmly clad, food
was scarce, and, alas, before the winter was
over nearly half the brave little band had died.
Among the very first was Rose, the beautiful
young wife of Miles Standish, the captain of
the little company; and soon after the father
of little Peregrine himself. It was a bitter
winter. Food was already scarce, and one day
the great log fort where all their corn and
winter supply of food was stored took fire.
The Pilgrims caught fish and lobsters;
and when the tide was out, gathered clams
along the shore. A few times they killed a
deer; but often they were so-weak from hunger
that even the strongest among them staggered
as they walked.






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


The babies, too, had their part in the
hardships of ar early New England winter.
There were no stoves in these days, of course
you know. Furnace or steam heat for keeping
a house evenly warmed? Why, the Pilgrims
would have thought a man crazy had he said
that such a thing were possible. The only
heat in these early homes was from the great
open fire-places, which usually stretched nearly
across the whole side of a room.
Now, these open fire-places are delightful
things to read about in books. When we
read of New England families of long ago
sitting before the great fires, telling stories,
popping corn, and eating apples, we think,
"How sociable! how home-like!" and we are
almost sorry we haven't great fire-places now.
But, strange to say, the people who had them
in their homes and grew up beside them,





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 31

never have quite the feeling about them that
we think they should have.
One writer, in speaking of the Colonial
babies and these fire-places says: "The Col-
onial baby had a real struggle for life. In the


AN OLD COLONIAL FIRE-PLACE.


winter time, except at such moments when he
was scorched by the flames of the roaring
wood fire, he must have been shivering with
cold, for the temperature four feet away from





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN


the chimney on a raw winter's day would
surely make any child scream with discomfort.
"On the Sunday following his birth the
little martyr was carried to the meeting house
to be baptized. Often the water was so frozen
over in the christening bowl that the ice had
to be broken."
However, if this had been the only day
the little one had to go to church it might not
have been so very bad; but these Colonial
mothers were devoted church-goers. It was a
heavy storm, with snow banked high, that
could keep either men or women at home.
And if mothers went babies had to go too.
Sometimes the mothers held them in
their arms during the long, long sermon,
wrapped up in blankets and shawls. But in
warmer weather, there were often little wooden
cages in which the babies were set, that the






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


mother might give her whole attention to the

sermon.

It is little wonder that poor little baby

Oceanus died very young. Indeed, we wonder,

rather, that baby Peregrine had the courage

to live on, as he did, through it all. For we

are told in the Plymouth records that "Pere-

grine White lived to the good old age of

eighty years."


CRADLE OF PEREGRINE WHITE.


I:
--





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


._ .". ."
"- : "*' V N ":' : : :

,-a



_- .



VISITORS IN THE HOMES OF THE
PILGRIM BABIES.

While the Pilgrims were landing their
household goods upon Plymouth Rock, they
saw upon the brow of the hill, a little back
from the shore, some Indians. They were
talking together, pointing towards the white
men and making earnest signs to one another.






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


"Indians!" whispered one of the Pilgrims.
In a second every man had dropped his work
and was looking towards the hill.
"Ugh! ugh!" grunted the Indians; which
meant, "The white men see us! The white
men see us!" For some reason the Indians
did not care to be seen just then; sd they
turned, ran down the hill, and in a second
were out of sight.
"What does it mean? the Pilgrims
asked of each other.
But no one could tell. "They may be
afraid. Perhaps they fled from us when they
knew we saw them," said one.
Or quite as likely they may have been
scouts sent by their tribe to spy upon us,"
said another.
"At any rate," said the brave Captain
Myles Standish, "let us be always on our






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


guard. There is no way to know what they
will do next. Let us keep our muskets
ready. Let us never go forth into the woods
without them; and let us never leave our
wives and children in the colony unprotected."
Weeks passed by. Not an Indian had
been seen since the first landing. Perhaps
they mean never to come again," said some of
the colonists. Myles Standish shook his
head wisely. "Quite as likely they may be
planning an attack upon us."
At last, one morning in March, there
appeared suddenly in their midst, a tall,
straight Indian, dressed in his very best paint
and feathers, a bear skin thrown about his
shoulders.
The white men were holding a town
meeting. One colonist- was in the midst of an
earnest speech. He stopped. Each man





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


seized his musket. Breathless they waited to
hear what the strange visitor should say. For
a moment he stood gazing at them. He
neither smiled nor scowled. He looked them
over; seemed to wonder what they were
doing; then, giving a little grunt, he said,
SWelcome, welcome, Englishmen !"
Where he had learned those words, no
one knew; nor did the colonists care, if only
he meant what he said.
Welcome, welcome, Indian !" returned
the colonists. At this, Samoset- for that
was the Indian's name--gave another Ughl
- this time a sign of satisfaction. He went
with the colonists to their homes; he sat at
their tables and ate their food. Indeed, he
settled himself down to spend the night with
his new friends, so delighted was he with their
welcome.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


The Pilgrims were hardly prepared to
receive guests quite yet, especially Indian
guests. But they well knew Samoset must
neither be angered nor sent away displeased.
So they gave him presents, and made him a
comfortable bed near a great roaring fire-place.
Then, although pretending to sleep, they kept
careful watch over him all night long.
"He seems friendly to be sure," said they,
"but we can not be certain that he is not a spy
sent ahead by his tribe, while they follow
under cover of the night."
But Samoset was honest in this visit;
and in the morning, after a good warm break-
fast, he went away with his presents, as happy
as a child.
The colonists were glad indeed when he
had gone; for he had not been the easiest
guest that ever was to entertain. But. alas!





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


their joy was short-lived; for back he came,
the very next day, and bringing with him five
other Indians. He had no idea but they


would be just as welcome as he had -been.
Perhaps he reasoned that, if one Indian had
been so welcome the day before, five Indians





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


would be five times as welcome. At any rate
there they were; and there was nothing for
the colonists to do but to be five times as
polite and hospitable as they had been the day
before. And so these five were fed and
entertained all day long, much to the delight
of Samoset who, no doubt, had promised them
a rare treat. At night-fall the five went away;
but Samoset had made up his mind to stay
with the white men--forever, for all they
could tell.
"What shall we do with him ?" they
groaned, as the days passed on. "We dare not
pay him less attention; but we must do our
work."
Send him to bring his chief to us. Tell
him that we must see Massasoit," answered
Myles Standish. And in this way they were
rid of him again for a time.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


In a few days Massasoit came. He was
a larger, stronger, straighter Indian than
Samoset. Hie wore more feathers and brighter
colored paint. He was terrible to look upon.
Ugh !" said he, looking at the babies.
Squaw," said he, looking at Mistress
White, who held Peregrine close to her heart
lest this chief should take a fancy to ask to
carry him off.
Pappoose," said he again, looking at the
baby with considerable curiosity. "White
pappoose. Ugh But Mistress White need
not have been afraid. A white, pale little
baby, wrapped in shawls and carefully guarded
from all cold or pain or hunger, was not an
Indian's idea of a fine baby at all. An Indian
baby, from the very beginning, is hardened to
all such sufferings, to make him a good
warrior by and by. If he dies, it is no matter.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


" He had better have died," even his own
father would say, "if he could bear no more
than that. What kind of a brave would he
have made!"
Massasoit, after he had been shown about
the colony, and had been loaded with presents,
sat down with the colonial governor, John
Carver, to smoke the pipe of peace. It was a
long smoke; for much that was said had to be
told each other by signs. It took a long time
to make the treaty with Massasoit, that should
protect the colonists from the great chief's
warriors. The treaty was made, however, and
Massasoit promised that his tribe should
never harm the colonists as long as he, the
chief, should live. This treaty was faithfully
kept, and for a long time the English and the
Indians lived at peace together.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY.

Such an autumn as there was in 1622!
And such a harvest!
"God be praised!" said Gov. Bradford,
looking out across the rich yellow fields with
their wealth of harvest. "Let us appoint a
day for solemn service of thanks to God who
hath poured out upon us, his chosen people,
such rich blessings."
"A Thanksgiving Day! A Thanksgiving
Day! cried the colonists, falling in at once
with their Governor's wish.
"It seeineth right," said Gov. Bradford
thoughtfully. God has granted us peace and
plenty; he has blessed us with a dwelling
place of peace; he has held back the savage
red man from bringing harm to us. There-





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


fore let us appoint a day of Thanksgiving;
and to our feast let us bid the Sachem come
with his braves, that they may know that we
too worship their Great Spirit--the God that
makes the harvest grow. So shoulder your
muskets, good hunters; and fishermen, get
ready your lines; and you, too, sweet maidens
and gentle housewives, do your part in the
great feast-making. We men will bring to
you the fish and the fowl and the wealth of
the rich broad fields. Your part shall be to
prepare it. Load down the tables; and let
us feast and make merry as becomes a people
so favored as we."
There was great rejoicing in the little
colony. In Old England there had been so
many feast-days! To .be sure, these Puritan-
Pilgrims had not approved of them indeed
they had frowned severely upon them. Life





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


is too serious to be wasted in merry-making,"
they had often said. But for all that, they
had found the long months of all-work-and-no-
play sometimes heavy to bear. Now there
was to be a feast-day--the first feast-day in
their new home; and everybody hailed it with
delight.
The golden pumpkins were harvested;
the corn was husked; the home-made beer was
brewed; the wild plums and grapes were
gathered; and preparation was made in every
cabin for a generous Thanksgiving dinner.
How the children rejoiced in this day!
Pies and cakes all they wanted! Puddings ?
0 yes! And pop-corn -not in wire poppers,
to be sure; but hidden in the hot ashes, and
watched and watched until the little pop! pop!
was heard, and the explosive little kernel
bounced up into the air, out perhaps across





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


the room. Then the laughing and the scram-
bling to find those kernels!
And the getting ready for- the Thanks-
giving-there was fun in that for the children.
Patient little Desire Minter and Remember
Allerton, yes, and the boy, Love Brewster,
they had their part in it all; for there were the
pumpkins to be sliced for future pies, and the
plums to be dried for future preserves. The
pumpkin slicing was the best fun of all.
First the pumpkin must be halved then it
must be cut into rings and woe to the child
so clumsy as to break those rings. Then the
rings must be laid upon the table and the
tough rind sliced off. It was hard work; but
these children were trained to hard work. And
it was careful painstaking work; but these
children were in all things careful, painstaking
children. It was, indeed, the spirit of the





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


colonial times to be careful and painstaking.
And then when the pumpkin rings were
ready! The pride these children felt in
their little hearts when they saw their work
strung across the room above the fire-place!
At length the feast-day was at hand.
Early in the morning the families were awake
and at work. First, there was the breakfast
to be prepared; for Thanksgiving began at
breakfast time. Then there was the sermon
that the good Elder Brewster had prepared for
the day. I wonder what it was like. I am
afraid it was very long and very dry; and that
the children away down in their sober little
hearts were restless to get away to their
homes for the good things they knew they
were to have.
A feast-day meant so much to the colonial
children! On such a day they were likely





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


to be allowed very much more freedom than
was their usual lot; for in those days children
were kept very strict and straight. Had
one of them burst, out with "0 mamma,
mamma! See what I've found!" as you do
to-day, he would surely have been hushed with
a chilling Children should be seen and not
heard." Or if the little girls had shown even
a bit of natural vanity in their own pretty,
childish faces, they would have been severely
reproved with a sharp Handsome is that
handsome does, my child."
But we must not forget the guests these
people had invited. Inviting company" you
see, was, from the very first, a New England
custom for Thanksgiving Day.
The great Sachem, Massasoit, regardless
of etiquette, came early in the morning, bring-
ing with him a hundred braves. To come





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


into the colony to a feast was an opportunity
not to be lost, so the red men thought; there-
fore they came in time for breakfast, intending,
certainly, to stay till after tea," or longer, no
doubt, if the feast held out. They were
strange guests; but the colonists were hospi-
table, the Indians had been true to their pledge
of friendship, and there was the best of feeling
between them.
All day long they visited from one cabin to
another, playing with the children, and watch-
ing with great curiosity the process of cooking
in the different homes. It was like no cooking
they had ever seen; but when the time for
eating came, they showed their approval of it
by the way they cleared table after table of the
food set before them. There is no doubt the
day was a joyous one, both to the red men and
to the colonists.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


"Ugh!" grunted Massasoit in true Indian
fashion as he went away. The Great Spirit
loves the white children best;" which was,
perhaps, his way of congratulating the colo-
nists on their success and prosperity; or
perhaps-who can tell? it may have been
the great Sachem's first recognition of what
christianized, civilized life might mean to
honest, earnest men and women like these
early Puritans.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN. 51








MILLS STANDISH'S HOUSE.

TWO LITTLE PLYMOUTH COLONY
GIRLS.

It was not very long before Baby Pere,
grine was forced to share his honors with
another little baby that came to take up its
life in the colony. But this time the baby
was a girl Betty Alden she was called -
the first girl baby born in the Plymouth
colony!
And a bright little thing this baby was;
as bright and pretty and full of life as her
own sweet mother had ever been. And





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


when her father, John Alden, returned each
evening to his little home, after a hard
day's work upon his rocky farm land, or
from a long tramp through the wood, -or
along the shore, in search of game, and
found always waiting for his coming this
little rosy daughter and her sweet, brave,
busy, young mother, he could only look
from one to the other and wonder which
one he loved best.
For the Alden family was a very happy
one, and the good father was deeply thankful
for the joy that had come to him through
his dear wife and this beautiful baby.
There had been a time when Baby
Betty's mother had been very homesick and
lonesome; for the cruel fever that had car-
ried away so many of the brave colonists
during that first hard winter, had taken her





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


dear ones, one by one, until she had been
left alone. To be sure, every door in every
little home in the settlement was open to her,
and there was not a family but would have
been glad to have her come to them; still
Priscilla was sad, for none of these good
neighbors could, in her gentle heart, quite
fill the place of her own kindred.
And so, one warm spring evening, as
she stood looking out across the bay, the
rich red sunset pouring its flood of glory
over the waters and upon the hill, Priscilla
said to John Alden, "You are all brave men,
so brave and strong. And I, too, mean to be
brave; but sometimes I can not keep back the
longings that fill my heart to see Old
England once again. I know how kind you
all have been to me since I have been
alone; own brothers and sisters could not





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


have been more kind. I know, too, how
good and how earnest of purpose are these
men and women around me. I know this
new home is fair. I know how grateful we
should be for this land that has received
us into liberty and freedom; but still, when
I awake in the morning, or when I lie at
night and think, there come to me dear
pictures of the old home; and I think how
soft the air must be, and how, just at
this time in the year, the hedges are filled
with blossoms and the sweet grass is spring-
ing everywhere."
"Poor child! poor child!" thought good
John Alden; and his eyes grew very kindly
in their light as he too looked off across
the waters. "If only I might make a
home for her and offer her its love and
shelter I"





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


And by and by there came a time when
John Alden did offer Priscilla his home;
and with it, best of all, his own true
heart--the truest heart, so Priscilla thought,
that beat in all that little colony; and she
forgot her loneliness and her dreams o.
dear old England--so happy and busy did
she come to be in this new home John
Alden had made for her.
Then by and by this little girl baby came
to grace the happy home. Never had there
been so wonderful a baby in all the world
before, -so its mother and father thought.
Of course, the neighbors from all the
country round about came to see it, and
many were the presents made to it in those
first few days, before it could keep its sleepy
little eyes open long enough for one to tell
their color. But they were beautiful eyes -





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


of that its mother was very sure,-and for a
time little Peregrine was quite forgotten in
the new excitement.
Indeed his nose was sadly "out of
joint," had he but known it. But since he
did not know it, he was quite as happy as
ever, and trudged about upon the hillside or
played upon the shore, never once dreaming
that anything had happened to take from
his own little glory.
And when one day he was taken to
see the new baby, he was as pleased as
any one in the colony; and began to plan
even then, for all we know, the happy hours
they some time should have together down
upon the shining sands beside the waters.
Betty was a good baby -that is what
the mothers in the settlement all said of
her; and when, as the years passed on and





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


she grew older, and little brothers and
sisters came, the mothers still said, Betty
is a good child."
"I should hardly know what to do
without Betty," Priscilla would say. For she
was a kind, helpful, little body, always
watching to save her mother steps, and
to relieve her of the care of the little brothers
and sisters.
"The little mother," John Alden used to
call her, taking her upon his knee when at
night she had tucked the little ones snugly
away in their beds, and the work was all
done for the day. For Priscilla and John, I
am glad to say, were not so rigid in the
training of their children as many of the
colonial parents were apt to be; and so did
not count it wrong to show their love for
the little Betty.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


Indeed, some of the colonists quite dis-
approved of the lax manner in which the
little Aldens were brought up.
"Betty Alden is a romp," they would
say when they saw her at play with the
children, running races, and playing ball, her
round little face flushed and red, her hair
flying, and her happy eyes sparkling with
health and happiness.
And by and by another little girl baby
was born in the colony. Lora Standish she
was called; and as these two grew from
babies into little girls they became the
closest of friends.
But very unlike were these two chil-
dren; for Lora was a very quiet, thoughtful,
little girl, tall, and slight, and pale, like a
pure white lily. And she had long, rich,
golden hair, and large blue eyes the largest,





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


bluest, most beautiful eyes that ever were,
so little Wrestling Brewster used to think-
but there was a sad, far off look in them
that made Lora's father and mother grieve
to look upon them.
Then, too, Lora was very quiet never
caring to run and play; but content rather
to sit quietly and watch the other children
at their play; or better still, she liked to
sit by her mother's side and knit and sew.
And there is still to be seen in Pilgrim
Hall, Plymouth, the very sampler that this
child, more than two hundred years ago,
wrought stitch by stich, sitting, as she loved
to do, in the doorway of her little home, and
looking out across the waters, and up at the
white clouds floating by.
There were people in the colony, who,
as these two children passed along the





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


roadside together-- Lora always quiet and
demure and Betty usually hopping and skip-
ping, her little tongue chattering like a magpie,
her sun-bonnet oftener swinging in her
hand than resting upon her head there
were people who would sigh and say,-
" It would be well if Betty Alden could
learn the quiet manners of Lora Standish."
But Lora's mother was wiser than
those neighbors who would have had all
children so quiet and demure. It is not
natural that a child should never romp and
run," she would say to Priscilla, as they
watched the two children together.
Then the tears would come to Priscilla's
eyes, and she would say, "Do not grieve
dear Barbara; I am sure Lora will grow
strong and well by and by."
"Mother, is Lora going to die?" Betty






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


would often ask. She talks so often of
it as if she were sure she will not live
long here among us."
"Be gentle with Lora, Betty," Priscilla
would answer; "it may be she is not quite
strong and well."
Then the tears would come into Betty's
great, warm eyes, and her strong, generous
heart would long to help her gentle play-
mate over all the hard places; for a warmer-
hearted little girl never lived than Betty
Alden.
The years passed on; and these two
little girls had grown to be big girls, who
wore their dresses long, and placed the
little white kerchief demurely around their
necks, crossing it carefully and fastening it
in the buckle at their waists.
Closer and closer had grown the friend-





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


ship between them; more and more had
Lora learned to lean upon brave, staunch-
hearted Betty; more and more had Betty
grown in gentleness and tenderness towards
Lora. But now a time had come when Lora
went no more out into the sunny fields
she had loved so well. All day long she lay
upon her little white couch, looking out, as
she had done all her life, upon the sparkling
waters, and up into the mystery of the deep
blue sky.
Each morning Betty came, laden with
the sweet wild flowers that Lora had loved
so well to gather.
"You help me to be brave, Betty,"
Lora. had whispered, one morning as Betty
came in, her arms full of the beautiful
pink Rose of Plymouth,-her own bright
face no less pink and no less beautiful.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


"And you help me to be good, dear
Lora," answered Betty, with a great sob,
as she knelt beside the little couch.
Then, at last, there came a day when
the- house of Myles Standish was filled
with people. There .were tears in their
eyes, and there was a strange hush in
the soft, warm air. Upon the little couch
Lora still lay, robed in a white samite,
brought from over the sea; and over her
breast lay the long curls of golden hair.
But the little hands were folded; the
great blue eyes that Wrestling Brewster
had so loved were closed; the little face
was very still; nor did it move when Betty's
tears dropped full upon it; for Lora's
beautiful spirit had left the little body, and
the whole colony mourned for the girl,
whose life had been so sweet and gentle.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


"She was like a pure, white lily," the
people said; and when that evening Betty
opened her little Bible and knelt alone by
her own bedside, she read of the lilies of
the field -for to her they were like her
lost playmate, Lora Standish.


COLONIAL CRADLE.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


OTHER COLONIES.


The Pilgrims, brave as they were, were
glad indeed when this first winter was over.
" It will never be so hard to bear again,"
they said, looking sadly at the burial ground
upon the hill, where, already, half their little
band lay beneath the snow.
And it never was so hard again. For,
before the next winter had come, they had
planted their little farms and had gathered
a rich harvest. They had built more com-
fortable houses; they had bought from the





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


Indians, and had sent to England, many
valuable furs; their barns and store-houses
were full; the Indians had shown no wish
to harm them. "Indeed we are now very
comfortable." So they wrote to their friends
in England.
By and by, one day, the Mayflower,
which had been sent back to England for
supplies, was seen again entering the harbor.
"Mistress White! Mistress White !" cried
a neighbor rushing into her little house,
"An English vessel is entering the harbor!
An English vessel is coming!" The quick
light came into Mistress White's eyes. Her
heart beat fast. Sometimes she had been
very lonely since Peregrine's father had
died; and brave as she was, she could not,
sometimes, but feel that if they had not
come to this strange country, so bare and





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


so cold, Goodman White need not have
died.
It was because of this, perhaps, that
Mistress White's heart beat so quickly. An

-~-- --- --1


English vessel-English faces I "It almost
seems wrong," this good woman whispered
to herself; "but I long to see them. Just
from England! How much they can tell





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


us of our old friends. Perhaps they will
know of our people we left in Holland -of
our good minister Elder Robinson-of--"
but by this time Peregrine was wrapped
closely in his shawls, and away the mother
hurried down to the water to watch the
incoming vessel.
The whole village was at the shore,
at least so Peregrine thought.
It is an English ship! It brings more
colonists! It is coming into our harbor!"
cried the excited people. And indeed it was
true.
What a welcome these new colonists"
received. Happy though the Pilgrims were
in their new home, it was, nevertheless, a
delight to them to see an English face
again-one just come from their old home
across the sea.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


But they were angry with their old
home," you say? Yes, that is true, England
had been very cruel to them. Still it was
good to see an old friend and an old neighbor
once again.
What wonderful stories they had to
tell each other; what a world of questions
they had to ask! And Oceanus, who was
born on the sea, and Peregrine, who was
born "just there in the harbor," and all
the other new babies that had been born
in the colony! -not one was forgotten, for
all there were such worlds of news to be
told of all that had happened in England
and all that had happened in the colony.
From time to time, new vessels came
from England; and more colonists came; until,
in a few years, there were many villages
scattered here and there along the coast.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


All these little colonies were friendly with
one another; and they banded together in
all public matters, calling themselves the
Plymouth Colony.
Meeting-houses were built, ministers
traveled from village to village and from
farm-house to farm-house, the children went
to school, and in' every way the Puritans
were fast growing away from that picture
we first had of them,- a mere handful of
people, living in little rough, cabin-like houses,
on the edge of the forests on the Plymouth
Bay.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


MASSACHUSETTS BAY COLONY.

It was in 1629 and 1630 that a large
number of people from England came to the
New World and founded a colony, which
came to be known as the Massachusetts
Bay Colony.
There were hundreds of men and women
in this colony, and such hosts of little boys
and girls. The Pilgrim children may have
been lonesome sometimes; but certainly in
this Massachusetts Bay colony they were
not-there were so many of them.
These colonists came first to Salem;





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


and then, dividing into little villages, settled
in what is now Boston, Charlestown, Dorches-
ter, Watertown and other places. They were


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND.


a different class of people from the Pilgrims,--
these later colonists. They were, most of
them, people of wealth, or at least, they were
"well-to-do;" and so had not the bitter suf
ferings to bear that the plucky little band
of Pilgrims had borne. Their first Governor,





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


John Winthrop, settled in Boston; and so
Boston came naturally to be the important
plantation, as they called these early set-
tlements. Winthrop was a good man; one
of the noblest and bravest in all the colony.
He was a man of learning; and it was
through him that Harvard College came
to be founded so early in the history of
Massachusetts.
Gov. Winthrop had a sister in England
of whom he was very fond. "If only you
were here with me, Lucy, in this beautiful
new country, I should be content," he often
wrote.
And the good sister longed to come.
"But," she would write, "here are my
two sons growing up. If there were only
some place of learning for youths it would
make me go far nimbler to your new





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


home; and, indeed, I believe a college would
put no little life into the colony."
"My sister Lucy is right," Gov. Winthrop
said to himself. And at once he set to
work to raise funds for the building of
a college. I thank God I may now
go to my brother," said Lucy Downing
quietly; and in due time she came, bringing
her two little boys with her. One of these
boys, you will be glad to know, was one of
the first class of graduates from this college,
for which his mother and Gov. Winthrop
had plead so wisely.















"i ISO;





4r


AN OLD TIME SCHOOL.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


'1-'





COLONIAL SCHOOLS.
And speaking of Harvard College reminds
us of the schools of these early times.
From the very beginning there were
schools; for the Pilgrims and the later
colonists loved learning and were determined
their children should not grow up unlettered
as they called it.
The very first schools the baby Peregrine
attended, as soon as he was old enough
to walk and talk, were held in the cabins.
The good women who taught the children,





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


being like all these brave foremothers,
thrifty, time-saving women, often went on
with their housework while the children did
their sums or recited their lessons. There
were so few pupils, and so little to be
learned, why shouldn't they? Certainly they
saw no reason why they should not, so
long as one eye was kept on the mischievous
little ones at work.
But, by and by, as the colonies grew
larger, teachers were hired by the people,
little school-houses were built, and the children
gathered together a few months in the year
to get a schooling. Sometimes the teacher
was a woman especially in the summer
time, when the big boys were at work in
the fields, and only the girls and the little
boys could attend.
To these schools the girls carried their





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


work-boxes and learned to sew, while the
boys did hard sums in the big arithmetic.
There was no need for girls to learn very
much, these early people thought. A
little reading and writing, and a great deal
of spinning and sewing, was what was best
for them.
And as the teacher herself did not
know very much, she, of course, could teach
the boys only while they were quite small.
Their letters, their songs and their verses,
they learned from an odd little book, called
"The New England Primer." It was illustra-
ted with small woodcuts, one for every letter
of the alphabet, These were placed up and
down the pages, each with its couplet at the
right. All the children in all the colonies
used the same book. Here are some of
the pages from which they learned their letters :







NEW-EXG&L.JVD PRlMlER.


In ATdam's fall,
We sinned all.

Heaven to. find,
The Bible& mind.

The. Cat dotli'play,
And after slay.

The Dog will bite
A thief at night.

Ah Eagle's flight.
Is out of sight.

The idle Fool
Is'.whipt at school,


NEW-ENGLAND PRIMER.

STime cuts down all,
Both great and small.

Uriah's beauteous Wife
Mhade David seek his life,

SWhales in the sea,
.. God's voice obey.

Xerxes the great did die,
And so must you and I.

Youth forward slips-
Death soonest nips.

Zac-che-us, he
Did climb the tree,
Our Lord to see.

i the branneheq of an Oak tree in BFnsoel wvood, hlierb he saw hf
awneies in foul opruit of him. Tliin 'tlk rrue was regardol, by ty
friongs of thie Kings, with luch venevttnf aP tr: P:.,oj al',na4
Sklar tfttb Rojat Fugitive.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


The teachers in these days believed in
punishing children when they did wrong.
One teacher, Mistress Tileston, who taught
in Boston long, long ago, would go up and
down the aisles in her little school-room,
tapping sharply the heads of idle boys
with a rough steel thimble which she always
wore.
Mrs. Diaz, who has written much about
her own early school days (and the schools,
even as late as fifty years ago, had not
changed very much) says: Mistress Leonard
had a faculty for contriving punishments.
For example, when little Sethy Cushing
tied his scarf around a kitten and hung
it on the clothes-line, she tied the scarf
on little Sethy Cushing, and hung him on
the crane in her great kitchen fireplace,
which was not at that time in use.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


Scholars who told lies had mustard put
on their tongues. When a little girl stole a
vial of boxberry cordial from one of the other
children, Mistress Leonard held that little girl's
fingers over the red hot coals.
"This teacher had other -''"
ways, too, of helping us to
avoid evil and turn to the good.
She had always a little A PUNISHMENT N COLONIAL
thin oval locket marked, Best Scholar,'
which she allowed us to wear when we earned
it. She also had bows of ribbon, blue, red, and
pink-and black! All good children went
home with the bright colored bows pinned upon
their shoulders. The child that had behaved
very bad, wore home the black bow.
I must not forget our Catachism or
Catechise as Mistress Leonard called it.
'Stand up and say your Catechise!' was





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


Mistress Leonard's first order in the morning.
At that we all stood in a straight line, our
toes exactly on a crack in the floor.
"The questions were put in a high-
pitched voice, very fast, and we were expected
to answer equally fast.
The Catechise' contained one hundred
and seven questions, their answers, the Lord's
Prayer, the 'Ten Commandments,' and the
Creed. Some of the scholars knew the
book through, and the Primer' besides.
Once in a great while the committee
men" would visit the school. When they
did, it was a great day. If the President
of the United States and all the Governors
should enter your school-room, you would
not be as awe struck as were these little
school boys and girls of so long ago.
The committee men always heard the





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


children read. They looked over the writing
books, frowning severely at the blots if
there were any; then taking the spelling
book in their hands, they heard the children
spell. The bigger the words they could
spell, the better scholars were they supposed
to be.
Ahem, ahem!" the committee man
would say, straightening up very tall and
looking very wise, spell intercolonial."
I-n in, t-e-r ter inter, c-o-1 col intercol,
o-n on intercolon, i i intercoloni, a-1 al in-
tercolonial," the pupil would answer in a
very shrill, high pitched voice. For this is
the way children were taught to spell, and
to pronounce their syllables in "ye olden
tyme."
Ahem, very good," the committee would
say in a patronizing tone.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


On the very last page of the spelling
book were columns of hard words---words
with silent letters. Happy was the child
that should spell that page for the com-
mittee man. Such a child's standard of
scholarship was settled forever.
"Can you spell phthisic? the committee
man always asked when the school had
been "spelled down" on all common words.
"Ph-th-is-ic," some child would answer,
jerking the letters to keep the rhythm.
And Mississippi ?
"Mis-sis-sip-pi," was the answer in the
same jerky tone.
If the children stood fire on spelling,
and then could tell how much a herring
and a half at a cent and a half apiece
would cost, that school was believed to be
a success; and in the town reports, that






88 STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.

teacher was said to have kept a good
school."


NEXT!
But the men teachers. It would never
do to pass them by.
I wonder if you have ever heard that
old hymn called Federal Street ? You will
find it in the church hymn books; and a





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


grand old hymn it is. This was written
long, long ago by one of Boston's old citizens,
Gen. H. K. Oliver. This man, too, once gave
an address on "Early Boston Schools," in
which he says:" Master Haystop kept school
on the corner of Franklin and Washington
streets.
"The building was a very old one -
one of the early colonial buildings. The
walls were time-stained; the door was old;
the staircase was old; and it led up to an
old room on the second floor, where we
were taught by a teacher that was also very
old.
"His dress was very odd. He wore a
tabby velvet coat, the tails of which stood
sometimes straight out. Inside the coat
was a waistcoat of tremendous length, through
which showed conspicuously the nicely





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


starched ruffles of his fine white shirt. His
knee breeches of velvet, like his coat, were
finished at the knee by large and shining
silver buckles; with these, in lustre, vied
two more silver buckles which rested upon
the tops of his clumsy shoes.
"Around his neck was wound, just once
and a half, a stiff iron stock, which helped
to keep his head stiff and straight, as
became a teacher in his day. But above
all, his crowning glory, was the wig the
white powdered wig, combed straight back
from his forehead, and hanging always in
a nicely braided queue behind."
Now, to be sure, these schools that Mrs.
Diaz and Gen Oliver have told you of
were schools of this present century; still
you must remember that they were exactly
like those of the very early colonial times.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


Had Peregrine written the story of his own
school days away back 1625 1635, there
would probably have been very little difference
between those and these you have just read
about; for until the present century this
country grew very slowly, and old customs
remained very little changed.


H&ND MADE SPADE OP THE COLONISTS.





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


COLONIAL CHILDREN'S SABBATH.
The first minister in the little Plymouth
Colony was William Brewster. He had
come over in the Mayflower with the colonists,
and he watched over and cared for them
as long as he lived. "Good Elder Brewster,"
the colonists would say, as the kind man
went from house to house during those
first hard months when so many of his little
flock sickened and died.
For some time the meetings were held
in the little cabins, or in the fort on the





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


hill; but by and by a little meeting house
was built, and it was to this the Pilgrims
made their way every Sabbath, no matter
how hot or how cold or how stormy the
weather might be. For these early settlers,
both of the Plymouth and of the Massachu-
setts colonies, were very religious people;
and staying home from meeting because of
weather was not to be thought of.
If I tell you about the meeting-house
that Peregrine was- carried to when he was
a mere baby, and in which he and little
Desire Minturn and Humility Cooper and
Remember Allerton and Love Brewster grew
to be young men and women, it will be
like telling you of all the meeting-houses in
all the colonies; for they were for many
years all alike.
In the first place, the Sabbath began at





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


sunset of Saturday afternoon. "Let us
spend our evening getting ourselves ready
for the Sabbath;" the people would say. So
at that time all work was stopped, the chil-
dren's play was hushed, the Sabbath had
begun.
In the morning the people were up
bright and early long Sunday morning
naps were not the fashion then--the little
work that it was necessary to do was done as
quietly and quickly as possible, and the family
made themselves ready for meeting.
There were no bells on these little
churches; but they were not needed. The
settlements were small; and it answered
quite as well for a man to stand upon
the church steps and beat his drum for the
call to prayer. In the quiet Sabbath hush
of these half forest homes, the drum beat






STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


/-,


CALLING TO CHURCH.


rang out upon the air clear and full; and

the people, already dressed and waiting, had





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


only to take their Bibles and their muskets
(these last lest Indians should steal in upon
them) and go to the meeting-house. There
was no hurry, no rush, no crowding, no













talking together. The men and women took
their places, the children were put all together
on one side of the church, and the services
began.
First, the good Elder rose and gave out
a hymn. A few people had hymn books;





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


but since there were only a few of them, the
Elder read one line of the hymn, the people
sang it to some old well-known tune, then
the Elder read another line. This, too, the












HOUR-GLASS.

people sang, and in this way the whole
hymn was learned and sung. Then followed
a long, long prayer, then another hymn, then
the sermon.
And such a sermon! Three, four hours
in length! These people would have been





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


shocked at the short half-hour sermons we
have nowadays. Three and four hours
were none too long for them.
But perhaps you are thinking of those
children we have left seated together at one
side of the church. Perhaps you are thinking
what a fine time they must be having
there all by themselves, with no mothers to
keep them from whispering or peeping over
into the pews behind them.
But alas for these children! There was
one officer in this church I have not yet
told you of. He was the "tithing-man."
That is, he was a man who stood behind
the people and watched to see that none of
the children played. In his hand he carried
a long pole. On one end of it was a little
deer or squirrel tail; on the other was a
hard knob. If he spied a woman nid, nid,





STORIES OF COLONIAL CHILDREN.


nodding, he would step down the aisle and
tickle the sleeper's face with the fur-end
of the pole;, but if he spied a child laughing


THE TITHING MAN.


or at play, he whisked around the fur-end
of the pole, hurried down the aisle, and before
the child had dreamed that the tithing-man
was coming, tap, tap, tap, came the knob-end




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