The Seeding of New England 71 



Come, let us now His glory tell, 



The power of His mighty Word. 

 Come, let us praise His mercy true, 



That He doth feed us in our need, 

 The wondrous works that He hath done, 



And still our footsteps shall He lead. 



That first corn harvest was only a respite before two terrible 

 famine years. These were ushered in by a drought, six weeks 

 long, which caused the new-sprung corn to wither and turn 

 yellow like dried hay. Fear gripped the settlers. What would 

 they do when winter came, without corn in the granaries? 

 The drought affected the Indians' crop even as their own had 

 been blasted. They could not hope to buy corn as they had 

 done during the first winter in New England. Too, the Indians, 

 wise in the way of droughts, were already leaving those parts 

 to hunt and fish in more favorable regions. 



From the third week of May to mid-July the colonists 

 looked from their blasted fields to the brazen sky in which no 

 promising cloud appeared, and fought to keep their faith in a 

 God of mercy. 



Would rain never come? 



Separatists as the men of Plymouth were, many of them 

 had been born in, and all of them had lived within, the teach- 

 ing of an older faith; one which took account of signs and 

 symbols and seasons, and which paid deference to the super- 

 natural powers of those it accounted saints. It is not likely the 

 Governor could count off the days on his calendar and not 

 remember that July fifteenth had been celebrated in England 

 for centuries as St. Swithin's Day when, if it should rain, the 

 celestial intervention of the medieval Bishop of Winchester 

 would send showers every day for forty days to come. A most 

 useful saint, Swithin, to farmers and gardeners, no less than 

 to the British umbrella-makers. 



Perhaps with some faint hope of this sanctified "rain- 

 maker" being within hearing of their invocations and lamenta- 

 tions, the Governor appointed July fifteenth a solemn day of 



