Dear Parents: The story of the first Thanksgiving seems to have been one

of the first American cultural practices that came under attack by the Left.

For several generations now, we have been taught, by public schooling

and media, that our American ancestors, who worked so hard and

sacrificed so much, were nothing more than Indian killing, racists, heck

bent on world domination.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Sometimes, in order to envision a

proper future for our children, we must look to the wisdom of the past.

Here I have selected an educational tale that school children one hundred

years ago would have read. In the classic form it is one part entertaining

story and one part educational description with a lot of rich, mental

illustrations of the real and once-living people involved. This style is meant

to engage young minds as they ponder their ancestors, their culture, and

their heritage.

I pray you enjoy this tale. Please consider printing it out and storing a

hard copy in your home. We never know how far Internet censorship will go

and we may face a day when stories like this, and the factual history they

portray, are scrubbed from public eye.

If you like this story and my work promoting Western culture and

traditional values, please consider visiting my Pay Pal at

www.paypal.me/wifewithapurpose or you can find my Patreon at

www.patreon.com/tradition

For more educational materials visit my Etsy store at

www.etsy.com/shop/wifewithapurpose

Thank you and God bless!

The First Thanksgiving

By Albert F. Blaisdell and Francis K. Ball

A story of the time long ago when the Pilgrims of Plymouth invited the Indian

chief Massasoit and his folowers to share their feast.

ALL through the first summer and the early part of autumn the Pilgrims were

busy and happy. They had planted and cared for their first fields of corn.

They had found wild strawberries in the meadows, raspberries on the hilsides,

and wild grapes in the woods.

In the forest just back of the vilage wild turkeys and deer were easily shot. In

the shalow waters of the bay there was plenty of fish, clams, and lobsters.

The summer had been warm, with a good deal of rain and much sunshine; and

so when the autumn came there was a fine crop of corn.

"Let us gather the fruits of our first labours and rejoice together," said Governor

Bradford.

"Yes," said Elder Brewster, "let us take a day upon which we may thank God for

al our blessings, and invite to it our Indian friends who have been so kind to

us."

The Pilgrims said that one day was not enough; so they planned to have a

celebration for a whole week. This took place most likely in October.

The great Indian chief, Massasoit, came with ninety of his bravest warriors, al

nicely dressed in deerskins, feathers, and foxtails, with their faces smeared

with red, white, and yelow paint.

As a sign of rank, Massasoit wore around his neck a string of bones and a bag

of tobacco. In his belt he carried a long knife. His face was painted red, and his

hair was so daubed with oil that Governor Bradford said he "looked greasily."

Now there were only eleven buildings in the whole of Plymouth vilage, four log

storehouses and seven little log dweling-houses; so the Indian guests ate and

slept out of doors. This was no matter, for it was one of those warm weeks

in the season we cal Indian summer.

To supply meat for the occasion four men had already been sent out to hunt

wild turkeys. They kiled enough in one day to last the whole company almost a

week.

Massasoit helped the feast along by sending some of his best hunters into the

woods. They kiled five deer, which they gave to their paleface friends, that al

might have enough to eat.

Under the trees were built long, rude tables on which were piled baked clams,

broiled fish, roast turkey, and deer meat.

The young Pilgrim women helped serve the food to the hungry redskins.

Let us remember two of the fair girls who waited on the tables. One was Mary Chilton, who leaped

from the boat at Plymouth Rock; the other was Mary Alerton. She lived for seventy-eight years after

this first Thanksgiving, and of those who came over in the Mayflower she was the last to die.

What a merry time everybody had during that week! It may be they joked Governor Bradford about

stepping into a deer trap set by the Indians and being jerked up by the leg.

How the women must have laughed as they told about the first Monday morning at Cape Cod, when

they al went ashore to wash their clothes!

It must have been a big washing, for there had been no chance to do it at sea, so stormy had been

the long voyage of sixty-three days. They little thought that Monday would afterward be kept as

washday.

Then there was young John Howland, who in mid-ocean fel overboard but was quick enough to catch

hold of a trailing rope. Perhaps after dinner he invited Elizabeth Tiley, whom he afterward married, to

sail over to Clarke's Island and return by moonlight.

With them, it may be, went John Alden and Priscila Mulins, whose love story is so sweetly told by

Longfelow.

One proud mother, we may be sure, showed her bright-eyed boy, Peregrine White.

And so the fun went on. In the daytime the young men ran races, played games, and had a shooting

match. Every night the Indians sang and danced for their friends; and to make things stil more lively

they gave every now and then a shril war whoop that made the woods echo in the stil night air.

The Indians had already learned to love and fear Captain Miles Standish. Some of them caled him

"Boiling Water" because he was easily made angry. Others caled him "Captain Shrimp," on account of

his smal size.

Every morning the shrewd captain put on his armour and paraded his little company of a dozen or

more soldiers; and when he fired off the cannon on Burial Hil the Indians must have felt that the

English were men of might thus to harness up thunder and lightning.

During this week of fun and frolic it was a wonder if young Jack Bilington did not play some prank

on the Indians. He was the boy who fired off his father's gun one day, close to a keg of gunpowder,

in the crowded cabin of the Mayflower.

The third day came. Massasoit had been wel treated, and no doubt would have liked to stay longer,

but he had said he could stay only three days. So the pipe of peace was silently passed around.

Then, taking their presents of glass beads and trinkets, the Indian king and his warriors said farewel

to their English friends and began their long tramp through the woods to their wigwams on Mount Hope

Bay.

On the last day of this Thanksgiving party the Pilgrims had a service of prayer and praise. Elder

Brewster preached the first Thanksgiving sermon. After thanking God for al his goodness, he did not

forget the many loved ones sleeping on the hilside.

He spoke of noble John Carver, the first governor, who had died of worry and overwork.

Nor was Rose Standish forgotten, the lovely young wife of Captain Miles Standish, whose death was

caused by cold and lack of good food.

And then there was gentle Dorothy, wife of Governor Bradford, who had falen overboard from the

Mayflower in Provincetown harbour while her husband was coasting along the bleak shore in search of

a place for a home.

The first Thanksgiving took place [nearly four] hundred years ago. Since that time, almost without

interruption, Thanksgiving has been kept by the people of New England as the great family festival of

the year. At this time children and grandchildren return to the old home, the long table is spread, and

brothers and sisters, separated often by many miles, again sit side by side.

To-day Thanksgiving is observed in nearly al the states of the Union, a season of sweet and blessed

memories.