CHAPTER XIII.
THE COLONIAL ROUTINE.
“Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
Our own felicity we make or find;
With silent course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.”
Goldsmith’s Traveller.
Now, as their second wilderness winter began to benumb the fingers and chill the blood of the Pilgrim colonists, they were necessarily shut out from many of the employments of the spring, the summer, and the autumn. They were busied chiefly in fishing, hunting, the collection of fuel, hewing timber, and exploring expeditions, varying this routine by occasional traffic with Indian trappers.[332]
Devoutly thankful were the forefathers for God’s mercy and protection in the past, and with tranquil faith they set their faces towards the future. So full was their devotion, that it constantly cropped out, even setting its impress upon the seal of the commonwealth, which represented four men in the midst of a wilderness, each resting on one knee, and raising his clasped hands towards heaven in the attitude of prayer.[333]
With the Pilgrims, faith was the spur of labor; and this active enterprise eased and conquered all obstacles. Still, causes for solicitude and trials infinite constantly arose. The lean condition of their larder was a care urgent for the passing time and weighty in the future; and to this a new source of anxiety was added. In the depth of winter, a report was bruited that active hostilities might momentarily be looked for, fomented by the restless enmity of the Narragansetts.[334]