THE PURITAN TWINS ***
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THE PURITAN TWINS
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR
[Illustration]
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO
The Riverside Press Cambridge
By Lucy Fitch Perkins
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_Geographical Series_
THE DUTCH TWINS PRIMER. _Grade I._ THE DUTCH TWINS. _Grade III._ THE ESKIMO TWINS. _Grade II._ THE FILIPINO TWINS. _Grade IV._ THE JAPANESE TWINS. _Grade IV._ THE SWISS TWINS. _Grade IV._ THE IRISH TWINS. _Grade V._ THE ITALIAN TWINS. _Grades V and VI._ THE SCOTCH TWINS. _Grades V and VI._ THE MEXICAN TWINS. _Grade VI._ THE BELGIAN TWINS. _Grade VI._ THE FRENCH TWINS. _Grade VII._
_Historical Series_
THE CAVE TWINS. _Grade IV._ THE SPARTAN TWINS. _Grades V-VI._ THE PURITAN TWINS. _Grades VI-VII._
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_Each volume is illustrated by the author_
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HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE MASSACHUSETTS
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
I. THE PEPPERELLS AND THE CAPTAIN 3
II. TWO DAYS 39
III. ON BOARD THE LUCY ANN 63
IV. A FOREST TRAIL 87
V. THE NEW HOME 113
VI. HARVEST HOME 157
SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS 181
[Illustration: map]
I
THE PEPPERELLS AND THE CAPTAIN
One bright warm noonday in May of the year 1638, Goodwife Pepperell opened the door of her little log cabin, and, screening her eyes from the sun with a toilworn hand, looked about in every direction, as if searching for some one. She was a tall, spare woman, with a firm mouth, keen blue eyes, and a look of patient endurance in her face, bred by the stern life of pioneer New England. Far away across the pasture which sloped southward from the cabin she could see long meadow grass waving in the breeze, and beyond a thread of blue water where the Charles River flowed lazily to the sea. Westward there was also pasture land where sheep were grazing, and in the distance a glimpse of the thatched roofs of the little village of Cambridge.
Goodwife Pepperell gazed long and earnestly in this direction, and then, making a trumpet of her hands, sent a call ringing across the silent fields. "Nancy! Daniel!" she shouted.
She was answered only by the tinkle of sheep bells. A shade of anxiety clouded the blue eyes as she went round to the back of the cabin and looked toward the dense forest which bounded her vision on the north. Stout-hearted though she was, Goodwife Pepperell could never forget the terrors which lay concealed behind that mysterious rampart of green. Not only were there wolves and deer and many other wild creatures hidden in its depths, but it sheltered also the perpetual menace of the Indians. Toward the east, at some distance from the cabin, corn-fields stretched to salt meadows, and beyond, across the bay, she could see the three hills of Boston town.[1]
