Chapter II

The Pilgrim fathers went hunting and fishing. They carried home duck, turkey, and fish.

The Pilgrim mothers made bread and cake from the corn. They baked plenty of pumpkin-pies.

What a good time the children had getting ready for the feast! They gathered the wild plums and grapes. They put pop-corn in the ashes of the wide fireplace. Then they watched until the “Snap! Crack! Snap!” was heard.

The Indians came, gaily dressed in skins, and paint, and feathers. They brought five large deer to the feast.

The Indians came in time for breakfast and stayed three whole days. So they must have had a good time. They played games, and danced, and sang.

Before the feast the Indians and the Pilgrims thanked God for His goodness to them.

Ever since then the people have kept Thanksgiving Day.

THANKSGIVING DAY LONG AGO.

The large kitchen was a busy place on Thanksgiving morning.

A log fire was burning in the fireplace. On the walls hung strings of dried apples. Long, yellow squashes hung up above.

A little girl sat beside the spinning-wheel dressing corncob dolls. She was taking care of the baby that lay in the queer old cradle.

Mother put the pudding in the kettle that hung before the fire. Then she said, “Come, Patty! It is time to set the table.”

Patty looked at the turkey that was roasting before the fire.

“I wish Thanksgiving came every day,” she said.

“What hard work that would make for Mother!” said Grandma, looking at the rows of pies.

After a while a loud shout made them all run to the door.

“Here they come! Here they come!” said Patty, dancing around the room.

Uncle John stopped the sleigh and out jumped Aunt Mary and the children.

What a good dinner it was! They all said that the turkey was the best they ever ate. And, oh, the pudding and the pies!

After dinner the fun began. There were games and songs, and at last a dance.

Grandma and Grandpa stood at one end. Father and little Patty stood at the other end. Then up and down the long kitchen they went, laughing all the time.

In the evening they sat around the log fire. They told stories, roasted apples, and ate the nuts the children had gathered.

At last they said good night. Then Uncle John put Aunt Mary and the children in the sleigh, and drove home through the softly falling snow.

Soon every one in the old farm-house was in bed and asleep.

Pussy sat in the warm firelight, alone, in the large kitchen.

THANKSGIVING DAY.

Over the river and through the wood,
To Grandfather’s house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh
Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the wood;
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.

Over the river and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play.
Hear the bells ring,
“Ting-a-ling-ding!”
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting-hound!
For this is Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river and through the wood,
And straight through the barn-yard gate.
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait!

Over the river and through the wood;
Now Grandmother’s cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie!

LYDIA MARIA CHILD.

WHITTIER.

When Whittier was a little boy, he lived on a farm.

In the summer he ran about with bare feet. He went swimming and fishing.

His merry whistle could be heard as he hunted for strawberries.

He knew the songs of the birds. He liked to watch them make their nests and feed their young.

When he went into the woods, the squirrels played about him. They let him see where they hid their nuts.

He watched the bee gather honey from the flowers. He knew how it made its house.

Often, at night, he sat on the door-step to eat bread and milk.

Then he could see the clouds and hear the frogs. Sometimes the fireflies flew about looking like little lanterns.

He tells of all those happy times in a poem called “The Barefoot Boy.”