I despair of trying to make you understand how thankful we were to God,
when the ship in which Master Winslow and father returned, sailed into
the harbor.
It seemed to me as if I should never have enough of looking at him,
or feeling the pressure of his hand upon my head, after he had thus
been gone for eight weary months; but, strange to say, the others in
the town thought it more pleasing to look at the cattle which Master
Winslow brought, than at our people who had come back to us.
Yes, in the ship _Charity_, on which Master Winslow and father came,
were three cows and a bull, and you who have never known the lack of
butter, cheese, and milk, cannot understand how grateful our people
were for such things.
[Illustration]
The animals were no sooner on shore and eating greedily, than
straightway we pictured to ourselves a large herd of cows, such as
are seen in England, and when for the first time we saw the milk, a
spoonful was given to each person in order that he or she might once
more know the taste of it.
In the same vessel came a preacher, by name of John Lyford, a ship
carpenter, and a man who is skilled in making salt; therefore does
it seem now as if our town of Plymouth could boast of nearly as many
comforts and conveniences as you enjoy at Scrooby.
Nor were the return of father and Master Winslow, the coming of the
animals, the arrival of the salt man, or the joining to our company of
the preacher, the only things for which we had to give thanks.