According to a trusted friend, this letter is an heirloom belonging in 1966 to a descendant of the writer, Ralph Jordan of Portola Valley. I have not been able to verify it's authenticity, but offer it for your contemplation. While I believe that some of the later feasts were called to celebrate victories over the Indians, I like to think that the first couple of Thanksgivings brought together all of my ancestors in a true spirit of friendship and gratitude.

New! Thanks to a reader, Bobbie Malott, I have been able to add the second paragraph, which was missing from the article I had. She informed me that a copy of this letter is in a book entitled "American Shrines on English Soil", by J.F. Muirhead, page 73."

   

To Miss Ruth Fletcher.
    Scrooby, England.

Most Dearly Beloved Sister: Governor Winthrop has informed us that ye "Lyon" will soon sett sail for England, so I will give this letter to Richard Gardner, who will bring it to you when he comes to Scrooby - that you may know how we are faring in this New Land. While we have endured many hardships, no one repents that he has come hither or desires to goe back, for we count it happiness enough that we are free to enjoy God and Jesus Christ. We will shortly have a Church in a settlement near here - which is called Boston and there will soon be many others - for all do exult in ye escape from oppression and are happy to continue heare. You cannot think how full of courage these Pilgrims be. With ye help of ye neighbors Robert has built a fine house with one roome at which I do think you would smile - for it is make of logs with mud mortar between - to keep ye cold without. Ye glass was so deare that ye window is of oiled paper - which doeth very well for light - and we will be verry comfortable. I cannot think how Beef or Veal or Mutton would taste, but we find ye Deare meat verry good and sometimes we have wild Turkey and with fishe and eels we have plenty of meat.

Robert uses ye skins of ye Deare for jackets & breeches & they doe verry well. At first I could not eat ye bread made from the maise, but now I find it verry good. Ye only mill for grinding it is at Watertown, where Robert has to carry it. Ye maise is quite white & fluffy when parched in ye coals. It makes a verry wholesome porridge. Ye savage Squanto, whom ye saw in England, was ye first to show our men how to tend and dress it & it makes verry good food. Then we have berries of divers kinds & beanes & planted some punkins. There is a sugar tree here which yields a juice when ye tree is wounded & this juice boiled down makes a verry good sweet. Since our candles gave out, we have burned ye knots of a Pine Tree. By reason of ye Pitch & Turpentine they give a light as clear as a Torch. A most strange thing did happen to me in ye Spring, which did give me a greate fright. You must know that our house is at ye edge of ye Forest. Well, one day I heard a noise on ye roofe & looking up ye chimney, I saw two big eyes & a fur nose. Filled with fear I seized Joshua from ye cradle & sprang into ye big cheste & none too soone, for there came down ye chimney - for ye fire was almost out - a big Beaste like unto a Lyon. He walked about sniffing here & there & finally, after a very long time it seemed to me, he climbed back up ye chimney. I declare to you he was a most unwelcome visitor.

Next Thursday - Mr. Winthrop has appointed for a day of Thanksgiving on account of ye good news that ye privy council of ye King has passed favourable measures toward ye Colonies. We intend to goe to service at ye Boston settlement. There was a Thanksgiving Day ye first yeare we came - in February, when after Mr. Winthrop had given his last handfull of meale to a poore man - and no one had anything worth the speaking of and it seemed as if we must all die of ye cold and no food - a Ship came into ye Harbor at Charlestown - laden with provisions - and was that not good cause for Thanksgiving - I believe this will soon grow into a custom of keeping days of thankfulness to God for away out here we feel how much we have to depend upon His good providence and we do praise Him that he has brought us safely through so many hard ways.

Do you know how Governor Bradford, ye first yeare after coming to Plimouth, appointed a day of Thanksgiving in November - and had a fine dinner of game and Deare Meat and fruit and many other delicacies and had for guests ye Indian Chief Massasoit and his warriors. He had been guided by God across ye greate Ocean and had been supplied with so many good things and had been befriended by ye savages. O but I think that was a time of reale rejoicing for those pilgrims. I heard also that they set apart another day - some time afterwards to give thanks when after a long draught - which had made all nature to languish and they were in sore straits - a plenteous rain brought forth a fruitful harvest to their no small comfort and rejoicing. Robert made ye journey to Plimouth which is more than 12 leagues from here - hoping to find where ye body of our deare brother Moses is laid - But as you know the place was made into a field - so that ye savages might not know how many had died - and he could not find ye spot - but it mattereth not where ye body lieth when ye soul is with God. He sleeps by ye side of James Chilton and his wife and Mary Brewster and many others you used to know. Mary Chilton has grown into a fine woman - is happily wedded and had three children. Elder Brewster is in good health - but his haire is white like ye snow. Love and Wrestling Brewster are both married - and are fine men.

Some say that many in this Plantation do discover too much pride - but I think a woman should always look faire to her lord - So I pray that you will - if the chance cometh - send me my taffeta skirt and Robert's Ruffles and cape, that we could not bring. You see I have writ a long letter for there is much to tell about this New Strange Land. I pray God we may be preserved and in ye enjoyment of this sweet libertie we will not forget Him. Robert bids me to present his love - and William who is now a tall lad - kisses your hand. Praying for your health and happiness in this world and everlasting peace in ye world to come -

Yours with my best love,
Lydia Bates Fletcher.

Concord in ye Plantation of Massachusetts, June 11, 1632.

INDEX