We are here this evening enjoying the sufferings of our Pilgrim Fathers. [Merriment.] Their heroic work takes in Plymouth Rock, ours takes in the Saddle Rock.  They enjoyed game of their own shooting, we enjoy game of other’s shooting; they drank cold water, because they could no longer get Holland beer.  The fact that they must give up Dutch beer was one of the considerations (so we are told by one of their Governors) that made them loath to leave Leyden. [Laughter.] We drink cold water because we want it and like it.  The Pilgrim Fathers went to church armed with muskets; we go to church with our minds stuffed and demoralized by the contents of Sunday morning newspapers. [Laughter.] The Pilgrim mothers went to church dressed in simple attire, because they could afford nothing elaborate and because they thought they could better catch and hold the devotional spirit.  The Pilgrim mothers of our day go to church with costly toilets, because they can afford it, and are quite willing to take the chances as to catching and holding the aforesaid spirit. [Laughter.] The Pilgrim Fathers, when they made the compact on the Mayflower, planted the seeds of constitutional freedom; we, their worthy sons, commemorate their work; try to perpetuate it and enjoy the fruits thereof.

It is sometimes said the Pilgrims were a solemn people; that they were not cheerful.  Well, in their severe experience in England and Holland and at Plymouth, there was much to make a born optimist grave and thoughtful.  But it is a mistake to suppose that they could not rejoice with those who rejoiced as well as weep with those who wept.  Take, for instance, the first Thanksgiving festival held by the Pilgrims.  The quaint account of this by one of their Governors is always interesting.  This first American Thanksgiving took place at Plymouth in 1621, only about ten months after the landing.  It was like a Jewish festival, continuing out of doors for a week.  The Pilgrim writer, Governor Winslow, describes it thus:  “Our harvest being gotten in, our Governor (meaning Governor Bradford) sent four men out fowling, so that we might, after a special manner (meaning doubtless a gay and festive manner) rejoice together after (not counting chickens before they were hatched) we had gathered the fruit of our labors.”  Now, listen to this:  “They killed in one day so much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week.”  What this “little help beside” was, is not stated.  In our day it would mean that the hunter and the fisherman made heavy drafts upon Fulton Market for meat, fowl, and fish, to supply what was short.  “At which time,” says the writer, “among other recreations, we exercised our arms”—­this probably means they shot at a mark [laughter]—­“many of the Indians coming among us”—­they were not the mark, at least this time—­“and among the rest, their greatest king, Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted.”  Think of that; feasting ninety Indians three days, and the whole colony besides.  What New England Society has ever made so good a showing of hospitality and good cheer? [Laughter.] “And they” (the ninety Indians), “went out and killed five deer.”