24 OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 



like that Which tipped the petals of the mayflow- 

 ers that I held in my hand, mayflowers that sent 

 up to me in the coolness of the gathering April 

 night a fragrance as aromatic and beloved as is 

 the memory of the lives of the Pilgrims that 

 slept all about me on the brow of Burial Hill. 

 Bradford wrote gravely and simply the chronicles 

 of these, and no more, yet the fervent faith and 

 sturdy love for fair play, unquenchable in the 

 hearts of these men, breathes from every page, a 

 fragrance that shall go forth on the winds of the 

 world forevermore. 



