that there disembarked from the Mayflower one hundred and three souls on that bleak Sunday, December 16, 1620,—seventy-five men and boys and twenty-eight women and girls. Sad to relate, one-half of that number were laid "beneath the sod of their new home before it was clothed by the Spring's verdure."
History and tradition have made heroes of many of the men, and they were entitled to far more glory than they have ever received for their heroic daring. Alas! of the women who shared the burdens and displayed equal courage with the men, little to their credit has been preserved by tradition or history. But when one recalls that in those days women had not the privileges they have now, one realizes that their self-denial, heroism, patience and long-suffering were accepted as a matter of course and no note was taken of it by their selfish liege lords.
In the enlightenment of the twentieth century, one recognizes that the women were the martyrs of that long and perilous voyage. It was the women who kept the weary vigils through sunshine and storm; it was the wives and mothers who were the nurses and comforters of their families; they cooked and cleaned and helped to keep the Mayflower habitable. There were, doubtless, times when weaker women would have been a burden to the men, who had hourly difficulties to overcome, which taxed their courage and strength almost to the point of exhaustion.
When at last they landed, they received a cold reception, not only on account of the inclemency of the midwinter weather, but because the natives were far from cordial in their greetings to strangers whom they suspected had designs upon what they considered their country. They had watched the inroads upon their domain and invasion of their rights by those who had preceded the Pilgrims, and regarded this new intrusion as boding ill for them. However, these brave people set to work
